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Lexi’s War: A heart-warming wartime saga to bring hope and happiness in 2018
Rosie James
A family at breaking point. A nation at war…1914. Young Lexi doesn’t want much – just her family’s happiness. She’s been working all the hours she can at the local sweet shop to help her mother lift her little brother and sister out of poverty. Maybe one day, if she tries hard enough, they can save enough to leave their tiny, cramped flat – and terrifying landlord, Mr McCann – behind. Although Lexi can’t help but wish her friendship with the landlord’s son, Johnny, could turn into something more.They say it will all be over by Christmas. But with the country still at war months later, Lexi turns all her attention to making the sweet shop’s windows cheery, and look for small ways to keep her family’s sprits high. And, with courage, she might one day manage to help her family overcome the hardest of times.An unforgettable story of family, friendship and courage which will warm your heart and fill you with pride. The perfect emotional wartime read for fans of Katie Flynn and Dilly Court.Previously published as On Christmas Day
A family at breaking point. A nation at war…
1914. Young Lexi doesn’t want much – just her family’s happiness. She’s been working all the hours she can at the local sweet shop to help her mother lift her little brother and sister out of poverty. Maybe one day, if she tries hard enough, they can save enough to leave their tiny, cramped flat – and terrifying landlord, Mr McCann – behind. Although Lexi can’t help but wish her friendship with the landlord’s son, Johnny, could turn into something more.
They say it will all be over by Christmas. But with the country still at war when the snow begins to fall, Lexi turns all her attention to making the sweet shop’s windows cheery, and keeping her family’s sprits high. And, with courage, she might one day manage to give her family a magical Christmas, the like of which they never dared to dream of…
On Christmas Day
Rosie James
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Copyright (#ulink_d88dab1d-855f-5650-aac0-9cd35bffe599)
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Rosie James 2018
Rosie James asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008282639
Version: 2018-10-26
Born in Bristol of Welsh parentage, ROSIE JAMES has always been a compulsive writer, her early enthusiasms kept alive by winning the occasional childhood prize, and much later by seeing her articles, short stories and romantic novels published. She is a trained singer, and as a lyric coloratura soprano, her roles include those in opera, operetta and oratorio. She enjoys theatre and eating out with friends, entertaining regularly at home - and when her beloved children and grandchildren are there as well, the party really gets going. Rosie lives in Somerset.
Contents
Cover (#u0fbf8a1c-d70c-5f85-89e2-ae1a9016f122)
Blurb (#ue734b6f5-ce91-56f6-89ea-210c7d91b046)
Title Page (#u29c75531-7abc-5eec-90bb-5f77372061e9)
Author Bio (#u298bc095-f601-507d-8fb3-791b4a36f6aa)
Chapter One (#ulink_a72c2461-88c3-57f0-ae88-8425faaf0009)
Chapter Two (#ulink_7ffa69a0-45cb-5f69-99ab-aa39996f556d)
Chapter Three (#ulink_0e801ef4-005a-5cc4-866f-2c14664e0f0c)
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Copyright (#ulink_4a0d3d5c-61df-589e-a4f8-14f4df17dca8)
Chapter One (#ulink_b1065a61-dc78-5aed-be3e-ca74bccd8c12)
March 1914At ten minutes to seven, and using her key to open the door, Lexi entered the sweet shop, the familiar, mouth-watering smell making her smile. To fourteen-year-old Lexi, it was like coming home, because during the summer holidays last year she’d been entrusted to run the place during the lunch hour each day so that the owner, Miss Jean Lewis, could have a rest. And the responsibility had been just up Lexi’s street – though she’d had to beg her mother to let her take the little job. Cecilia Martin was very protective of her three children and had tried to dissuade her elder daughter from entering the world of work too soon.
But Lexi had been determined, and had worked for the whole five weeks for a couple of hours each day, learning quickly along the way. Miss Lewis was a generous employer, and soon Lexi’s little cardboard box which held her pocket money had begun to feel quite heavy.
But now Lexi had left school for the last time – despite her mother’s pleas that she should stay on longer. But why, Lexi had argued, why didn’t her mother want her to grow up? Cecilia still had Phoebe, six, and Joe, three, to coddle and fuss over.
Then, as if it was meant to be, Miss Lewis had advertised for part-time help once again – which is why Lexi was back where she felt she truly belonged - behind the counter of the town’s prosperous little sweet shop. And her hours, from 7 to 10 in the morning and again from noon to 2 in the afternoon - plus the occasional extra hour in the evening to help with stock-taking - fitted in perfectly with all the domestic chores which Lexi did each day for her mother. Washing and ironing, sweeping and cleaning, and looking after the younger ones while Cecilia worked three nights a week at the laundry as well as toiling away each day at their scrubbed wooden table with her Singer sewing machine, mending, altering, patching, the turning of bed sheets sides to middle for all the hotels and guesthouses. Cecilia’s meticulous handiwork was how she kept her family fed and the rent paid. Her husband, Albert, a travelling salesman, was away far more than he was at home, his irregular contributions to the family purse leaving Cecilia the main bread winner - a role she accepted without complaint and with certain pride. Unlike many of the poor in the area who would let their children run around all hours of the day and night in hand-me-down shoes, or no shoes at all, Cecilia protected her children with the determination of a tigress, and all in all, she considered herself luckier than most. She was a decent citizen of Bath, never in debt, and bringing up well-mannered children, while many others barely existed, relying on parish relief to just about stay alive. Yet despite that, a lot of the women smoked, their men often coming home drunk
Now, Lexi took off her coat and scarf and tied her neat green shop apron around her waist. Then she glanced around her, noting that as usual, Miss Lewis had left everything in place for the day’s trading.
It was quite a dark little shop, but brought to sparkling life by the rows and rows of fat glass jars all up there on the shelves … full of boiled sweets, toffees, bulls’ eyes, aniseed balls, hundreds and thousands, chocolate drops, and sticks of liquorice to dip into sherbet. The cigarettes and tobacco were always kept high up on a shelf.
Turning, Lexi unlocked the small safe under the counter and took out the bags containing all the coins, emptying the money into each little compartment ready to receive the day’s takings. Any pound or ten shilling notes were tucked in safely at the back.
Handling money had never been a problem for Lexi and she didn’t need to count on her fingers to work out the right change. And weighing up 1 oz or 2 oz or a quarter pound of things, was part of the fun of the job. Instinctively, Lexi moved the heavy weights of the scales to form a neat pile on the counter, then took a cloth to give the shallow brass pans a quick wipe-over. The little dustpan and brush kept for clearing up any spillage of sugar or sherbet was there on the side. Miss Lewis liked everything kept nice and tidy which was something else that came easily to Lexi. She did plenty of that at home
Any early customers were the children spending their farthing or half penny pocket money on their way to the nearby school – the school which Lexi had only recently left and which Phoebe now went to and Joe would, too, next year – but not many children had money for sweets. It was largely men coming in for their cigarettes or tobacco.
But this little shop held far greater significance for Lexi than finding her first real job, because it was here that she’d made her very first purchase with her own money – money earned singing carols outside public houses a couple of Christmases ago. Somehow, she’d found the courage to do this entirely by herself and hadn’t told a soul, not even Johnny who was her best friend. She and Johnny didn’t usually have secrets from each other, but Lexi had wanted to do this alone, had thought it important to stand on her own two feet. The pubs and beer houses had been full of men on that cold morning, all spilling out on to the pavements as they’d toasted the festive season, and nearly all of them had put something, a copper or two, into the enamel mug which Lexi had held out hopefully.
Lexi loved music, loved to sing, knew every carol by heart as well as all the popular songs which her Dada had taught her as he accompanied her on his harmonica or banjo when he was home. And she’d always been the one chosen to sing solo at school, her clear treble voice reaching the top notes like a bell.
But the sole purpose for her carol singing that day had been so that she could buy her mother a beautiful present.
Lexi had seen the little beaded purse here, in the sweet shop window for several weeks and had made up her mind that, somehow, she would find the money to pay for it. As well as the confectionery always on display, Miss Lewis did sometimes buy small gifts to put in the window, especially at Christmas time - jewelled trinket boxes, pretty handkerchief sachets, ladies’ dainty ivory fans – but it was the beaded purse which had caught Lexi’s eye. And as the money had clinked into her mug while she’d gone on singing, it had made her realize that if she was determined, and worked hard, she could get whatever she wanted. And the moment there’d been enough money to buy the present, and even some left over to buy sweets for her sister and brother, had been the moment when Lexi had made her big decision.
One day, she was going to be rich – perhaps even as rich as Mr McCann.
Mr McCann was Johnny’s dad, and he not only owned property all over Bath – including their ancient cottage in the run-down rank of dwellings on the edge of town – he was also a money lender, charging high interest. Most people were afraid of him, calling him “Foxy McCann” behind his back. But Cecilia said that was very disrespectful and that he must have worked extremely hard for his money. He was certainly never called Foxy in their house.
Lexi knew that she loved Johnny almost as much as she loved her brother and sister. Johnny used to go the same school as Lexi, and on her very first week, after she’d fallen down in the playground, there’d suddenly been this boy helping her up and dabbing her grazed knee with his clean white handkerchief. And as she’d gazed up into those kind dark eyes her tears had stopped almost at once. And that had been the start of a friendship which had grown stronger with every year that passed.
Now at almost sixteen years old, Johnny was nearly as tall as his brother Alfred who was two years older. But Alfred was not nearly as nice as Johnny. In fact, Alfred could be quite horrible at times. Johnny was never horrible and had the sort of face you wanted to keep looking at, a smiley, kind face, surrounded by soft black curls. All the girls loved Johnny but he was Lexi’s best friend so no one else got a look in. Lexi hated the thought that he would soon be going away to college, like Alfred, because that would mean they’d only see each other during the holidays.
Johnny and Alfred lived with their dad in the big house at the far end of the street called Grey Gables. Everyone knew that their mama had died a long time ago and Lexi was really sorry about that, because she and Phoebe and Joe had a mother and a father – even if he didn’t come home very often. It must be awful not to have a mama to look after you.
One of the worst things about Johnny’s dad was that he had a very loud voice, which sometimes made Lexi shake inside. And he never smiled, probably because his twirly moustache got in the way, or perhaps it was because he always walked with a limp and so his legs hurt. He was also very tall so that Lexi had to bend her head right back to look up at his face – which wasn’t often because she tried to make sure he was out when she visited Johnny at their house.
Despite being a bit afraid of him, Lexi couldn’t help admiring Mr McCann and was determined that she, too, would work hard and be successful like him, and she wouldn’t care if people called her names because one day she was going to earn her way to the very top of the world. She wasn’t too sure how she was going to make that happen, she only knew that one day she would.
And Lexi Martin certainly had plans.
First of all she was going to buy them a house of their own so that they would never have to pay rent ever again. Thanks to her mother’s tireless working hours they were never late paying their rent – but many people weren’t so lucky and were sometimes evicted when they couldn’t find the money in time. Lexi knew all about this because quite often she would go with Johnny on the rounds when he collected the rents for his father, taking her turn in carrying the strong leather bag which held all the money. Johnny always gave her a penny from the tiny wage he received for the Friday evening task. And later, whenever Mr McCann was safely out of the way, the two of them would go upstairs to the study at Grey Gables to lock away the rents and they’d sometimes take it in turns to sit in the huge leather chair by the desk and swing each other round and round until they were dizzy. Once or twice they’d even played shove ha’penny because the desk was just the right size. But Lexi only ever went upstairs at the big house when Mr McCann was away.
It was getting on for ten o’clock when Miss Lewis came through from her living quarters to take over. Lexi glanced at her quickly, thinking how pretty the owner must have been when she was young. She was a small, dainty woman, her thick hair, which would once have been dark brown, was now almost all grey and held on top in a neat bun. She had a ready smile and shrewd grey eyes which always lit up when she was speaking to anyone – especially to children.
‘Oh Lexi,’ she said, ‘it is so lovely to have you here again, my dear! Thanks to you, I don’t have such an early start in the mornings, and I’m also able to have a hot dinner and a bit of a rest at midday.’ She tutted. ‘I really should not have waited this long before seeking more permanent help, but after my sister died I felt it was my duty to keep the business going exactly as she would have wanted. It had always been just the two of us, you see. We bought the shop together many years ago, long before you were born, Lexi – and I haven’t felt able to bring a stranger in, if you know what I mean.’
Lexi nodded. She had never seen anyone else behind the counter of the well-known sweet shop.
‘But for some reason you have never felt like a stranger, Lexi,’ Jean Lewis went on. ‘You have always been one of our regular customers, of course, but from the moment you came in to buy that Christmas present for your mother I felt I knew you, I felt I knew the sort of person you were. The sort of person who I could get along with … perhaps like the daughter I never had.’ The owner looked away for a moment. ‘Neither my sister nor I ever married, so no sons or daughters for us, I’m afraid,’ she added.
Lexi sensed Miss Lewis’s sadness and said quickly, ‘Well, I loved being here last year, and am enjoying every single moment of working for you now, Miss Lewis. I’ll be very happy to help with stock-taking again, any evening you would like me to, and the time just flies when I’m behind the counter.’
Jean Lewis nodded. ‘That’s because we see so many different customers, isn’t it? We soon get to know the ones we hope will call on us again, and those who are more difficult to please. But you got the hang of things straightaway and have an excellent attitude Lexi … which is essential in the business world.’ The owner raised one eyebrow. ‘And you are far quicker adding up than I am! When we’re doing a count I find it hard to keep up with you and your young brain!’
Lexi smiled happily. ‘I love figure work and have never found it difficult.’ She paused, then said, ‘One day, Miss Lewis, I am going to have a business of my own because I want to make enough money to buy us a house, a really nice house. For my mother and my sister and brother.’ There was a brief silence before Lexi went on slowly. ‘You see, my father can’t help because he’s not often at home – his work takes him away all the time. So – I’ve decided that it’s up to me to earn all I can as soon as possible and working for you, here, is the start of that long climb up the ladder to succeed in my aim.’
Miss Lewis’s eyes softened at Lexi’s enthusiasm and obvious loyalty to her family. She knew very little about the girl’s background but was only too aware that there were plenty of absent fathers who left their work-weary wives to shoulder the parental burden. She touched Lexi’s shoulder.
‘Well, if I am any judge of character, Lexi, I am sure you will succeed in whatever you do. Any employer will be extremely fortunate to have you on their books, and if I have one word of advice it’s that you continue to have faith in yourself, faith in your ability. Hold your head up high, and be proud. If you believe in yourself, others will believe in you.’
Just then, as Lexi was preparing to leave, the door opened and a large man entered. Removing his trilby hat, he came forward.
‘Good morning Miss Lewis!’ he exclaimed heartily, ‘And can I have 4 oz of my usual Capstan, please?’
‘Of course, and good morning Councillor Larson,’ Jean Lewis replied, reaching up for the tobacco.
As Lexi moved towards the door to leave, the man frowned suddenly and put a hand out to stop her. ‘Just a moment,’ he said. ‘I know you, young lady, don’t I?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Lexi faltered. She’d never seen him before.
‘You are the girl with the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard!’ the man went on. ‘You sang carols outside The Star, a couple of Christmases ago, didn’t you? And I have never forgotten it! Tell me that you’re still singing!’
Lexi smiled, relieved. She’d wondered what was coming! ‘Oh yes – I still like to sing,’ she said shyly.
Now Jean Lewis broke in. ‘Of course you are right, Mr Larson,’ she said brightly. ‘This is Lexi Martin, the young lady who sang carols that morning … which she did so that she could buy her mother a present she’d seen here in the window! And I remember, very well, how soon afterwards you came in to the shop for your tobacco and couldn’t stop telling me how this delightful young girl’s voice had enchanted everyone!’
Feeling almost overcome with embarrassment by all the compliments, Lexi opened the door to leave. Mr Larson stopped her a second time, looking down at her.
‘The town needs a young, talented singer like you, Miss Martin,’ he said. ‘We are looking for fresh, youthful performers to entertain our visitors at the Pump Room as they enjoy their refreshments – and in my opinion you may very well be exactly who we are looking for!’
Lexi’s mouth almost dropped in amazement. Was he talking about her?
‘Oh Lexi – how wonderful!’ Jean Lewis broke in enthusiastically. She turned to the man. ‘And how should Lexi go about this, Mr Larson?’
‘She should go down to the Guildhall, any morning after ten o’clock, and ask to speak to the entertainments manager,’ Mr Larson said. ‘Tell them that I have recommended you should have an audition – take some songs with you because the pianist may well be around at the same time but if he isn’t, arrangements can be made for later.’ He smiled at Lexi. ‘If you are accepted – which I am sure you will be – you will be paid a fee, of course. Not a fortune, naturally,’ he added cheerfully, ‘but enough to make all your efforts worthwhile.’
Eventually, Lexi was able to leave the shop, and began to make her way home, her head buzzing as if a thousand bees had flown in. Had that just happened? Or had she dreamed it? Had she, Lexi Martin, been invited to audition at Bath’s prestigious Pump Room? She’d never thought she’d step over the threshold in her life, let alone to possibly perform before people of rank!
Lexi stopped in her tracks for a moment. Could this be the next little bit of her big plan? Because if she was chosen to sing, she would be paid a fee, so the Councillor had said …
She bit her lip as she walked on slowly, making up her mind that for now, the only soul she would tell about this would be Johnny … Johnny would be amazed, and excited for her. But she certainly would not mention it to her mother, because Lexi knew very well the reaction she’d get.
In Cecilia’s opinion, her daughter was still a child, far too young to be assuming any financial responsibility. There was plenty of time for all that.
Chapter Two (#ulink_35b9d7ea-6ee5-507c-b422-6e7645bc0096)
Later that night, Cecilia paused on her way upstairs to peep into the bedroom which her children shared. Going over quietly, she gazed down. Lexi and Phoebe slept in the one bigger bed, while Joe was still in his cot, his thumb in his mouth, as usual. Cecilia drew in a long, deep breath. They were her sole reason for being alive.
Just then, Lexi stirred, smiling and muttering something in her sleep. What was she dreaming about, Cecilia wondered, this precious little girl, who’d arrived six weeks early? The very first glimpse Cecilia had had of her tiny one had been enough to convince her that she’d delivered a princess. Someone just as lovely to look at as Princess Alexandra of Denmark, wife of the wretched man who had become King Edward VII, that drunken, womanizing monarch now thankfully departed this life.
And what had that dear little foreign princess ever done to deserve such a fate, marrying him at the tender age of sixteen? But as far as anyone knew, and from all the pictures in the newspapers, Alexandra, known as Alix, had always remained as lovely as ever, and truly faithful to her undeserving husband. And Cecilia had known almost at once that her baby was going to be called Alexandra as a sort of act of loyalty to the uncomplaining queen. But rather than Alix, Cecilia’s little giirl would always be known as Lexi, a short, sweet, and simple name.
As the years had gone on, nothing had changed Cecilia’s opinion of her first-born who was rather small for her age, but whose long, golden, wavy hair surrounded a cherubic face and the brightest green eyes and longest lashes she’d ever seen, convincing Cecilia that she had given birth to an infant just as regal as any born to Edward and Alexandra.
Then, slowly, and in the quietness of the room alone with her thoughts, Cecilia put her hand to her mouth for a second.
What if Lexi, her darling Lexi, had never existed? What if she had never taken her first breath, nor uttered that first infant cry? What if something dreadful had occurred while Cecilia’s baby had still been in the womb? Things, bad things, frequently happened to the unborn, either from a deliberate act or through an act of God…..
Cecilia shook herself, annoyed at these dreadful thoughts. Lexi was here, alive and well, and as beautiful as she would always be.
In the other small bedroom, Cecilia slowly got undressed. It was surprising how quickly she and the children had got used to this new cottage which had two bedrooms. Before, she and Albert had had to make do with a small curtained-off space in the kitchen for their sleeping quarters. Not only that, but now there was a small sitting room downstairs as well as a kitchen and scullery. When they’d moved in last year the place had seemed as big as a mansion.
Cecilia made a face to herself. Albert hadn’t even seen the new place yet, knew nothing of the sudden notice to quit which all the tenants in their old rank had received from Mr McCann last year. Everyone had been given a month to find other accommodation, or to accept one of the new cottages which would be double the rent. A familiar well of anger rose in Cecilia’s throat. Landlords had the whip hand every time and there was nothing that could be done about it. No law existed that favoured tenants.
Still, Cecilia had to admit that the new cottages were a distinct improvement. The rooms were lighter and airier, the kitchen was bigger, the fireplace quite posh – and they even had a small gas stove now for cooking and heating water. In their old kitchen the fire had never been allowed to go out – well, they’d depended on it for all their needs – but it had made the little kitchen so comfortable. Lexi and Johnny had loved going out into the fields to collect twigs and bits of wood to keep the fire alive and to supplement the precious coal. There was no need now to keep a bucket of coal dust, purchased for a penny or two, to damp the fire down and keep the glowing embers alive.
But the best thing of all was that they now had a bath in the scullery, the water heated by a gas boiler, and next to that there was a lavatory – so much more comfortable and convenient than everyone having to wait their turn for the outside privy, like they used to. There’d usually been a small queue of women there, smoking, sharing a joke, often someone eaten out with anxiety that their time of the month had come and gone with no sign … exchanging advice about all their personal problems. Cecilia bit her lip as she thought back. Some of that camaraderie, that female support, seemed to have –disappeared – not that it mattered to her now, nor ever would again. Cecilia Martin had everything she needed.
One extra advantage of the move was that they were now closer to the school so Phoebe and, eventually, Joe could get there safely by themselves. The snag – and it was a big snag – was that increase in rent. Yet somehow, by accepting more night work at the laundry and doing as much private tailoring as she could fit in, Cecilia had been able to afford it. There’d been others in the row who hadn’t been so lucky and who’d had to cadge accommodation from friends or relatives until they could find something more permanent and more affordable.
As she got into bed Cecilia’s lips tightened. Mr McCann had no idea how the other half of the world lived, no idea at all. But she always kept quiet, and had never, ever, indulged in gossiping with others about their landlord. With most people, his name was mud. But he paid his employees well enough, and Cecilia often did housework at Grey Gables, not to mention answering Mr McCann’s incessant need for new waistcoats and smart jackets – which she created from scratch. And there seemed to be always something that he’d bought which needed altering. His wardrobe must be bulging with clothes.
Cecilia was pensive as she drifted off to sleep. The thing she was finding irritating was trying to persuade Lexi that supporting the family was not her problem, and certainly not a child’s responsibility. Cecilia, was well able to cope alone – she’d had plenty of practice, after all. But she had at last accepted that the little job Lexi had at the sweet shop seemed to suit her daughter, who’d never seemed happier – it was a very respectable job, after all. And the money Lexi earned did come in very handy, although Cecilia would only take a little of it. Cecilia half-smiled to herself. Lexi had such grand ambitions, was so determined to save money, to be someone, do something special one day. Yet what chance did people in their class have, to raise themselves above the norms of the time? No chance, none at all.
Cecilia turned over restlessly. The best thing that Lexi could do was to become a lady’s maid in a grand household, where you were paid a good salary and your bed and board were thrown in. And most of all, you were respected. It gave you status. Lexi would be just perfect at the job – she’d done well at school, she spoke well, she wrote well, and people seemed to like her. Yes, that was the thing, Cecilia decided. If Lexi became a lady’s personal maid she would one day live in a grand house with a very superior address, and never have to worry about finding a roof over her head.
But if and when the time came, Cecilia would warn Lexi to be very cautious in her choice of husband – should she ever want to get married. Little Princess Alexandra could never have guessed what had awaited her – and neither had Cecilia’s mother who’d married a man who’d beaten her and all her children without mercy. Which was why Cecilia had run away from home at the age of twelve with nothing but the clothes she’d stood up in and a little money she’d secretly stored. Then, going from place to place, she’d found work wherever she could get it; shops, hotels, scrubbing, cleaning, a maid of all work. But it hadn’t taken long for her talent with a needle to be recognized and soon she was repairing hotel pillow cases, worn sheets, tablecloths. It all helped her to stay alive with no questions asked of her and with no one ever trying to find her. People of her class were invisible and if they disappeared, no one cared or even noticed.
It was late, and Cecilia had only just managed to finally get to sleep when she was roused by a gentle tapping on the front door. She sat up quickly and waited. Who had visitors at this time of night? There it was again – three short taps, and she got up, reached for her dressing gown and went downstairs. Before she opened the door, she peeped cautiously through the window, then let out a gasp of surprise.
‘Albert’!
Cecilia opened the door and her husband came inside. He was carrying his holdall and a plump, white chicken, still warm, which he put down carefully on the floor. He was the first to break the few moments’ silence.
‘Well now, isn’t my lovely wife after going to give her man a hug, then?’ He put his arms around her but she averted her face so that their lips didn’t meet. ‘Sure, and you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you, Cissy?’
Albert Martin was a stocky, well-built, muscular man, his hugs like those of a bear, and however angry Cecilia often felt about her husband and his erratic lifestyle, there was still a place in her heart for him. He was the children’s father, after all, the man she’d fallen for the moment she’d drawn a pint of Guinness for him at the bar where they’d first seen each other. Those wicked Irish eyes, that irrepressible laugh, his conjuring tricks, his deftness with a pack of cards … and his harmonica that he played with expert ease to anyone who would listen. All the favourites, the sing-along tunes that automatically drew people around him in the bars or pubs, wherever he went. He had certainly drawn Cecilia to him more than sixteen years ago, and he hadn’t had to ask her twice to be his wife … She had instinctively known that he was a kind man who would never treat her brutally, and he never had. He’d never laid a finger on either her or the children.
But neither had he provided for them, not really … because Albert liked freedom, an unrestricted way of life, and it didn’t seem to bother him that he was hardly the perfect husband. After a very short time into their marriage, he’d taken off, jaunty as you like, and Cecilia hadn’t seen him again for eighteen months. Then, after Lexi was born, he’d gone back to his family in Ireland and hadn’t returned for five whole years. which had made Cecilia believe that he’d deserted her for good. But eventually he did turn up, and in the next few years Phoebe and Joe were born and life returned to its rackety, unpredictable normal.
When he did come home he would always bring gifts for the children and money for her – money which Cecilia always hid away safely in case she ever got really short. And it seldom bothered her that she would always be the main bread winner because she was used to it by now, used to fending for herself. She had accepted her lot, and was as happy in her role as Albert was in his. Theirs was a strange alliance, she sometimes thought, but it worked well enough – if she let it.
Albert’s “business” was a variable affair consisting of buying anything he could find at low cost and then selling on at a profit. He had a shrewd eye for a bargain and would spot things in markets or wayside stalls, buy in sufficient quantity to encourage a quick sale, then cycle to the outskirts and convince prospective buyers that he was giving them the chance of a lifetime. And when business stalled for a bit, he would find work on any farm that needed an extra hand, or in any pub that could do with a skilled puller of pints. As long as he was never anywhere for long, Albert Martin was happy. And whether it was his willingness to put his back into anything asked of him, or whether it was the luck of the Irish, he was seldom short of food or shelter – for which he was rarely expected to pay. It did mean he’d sometimes shared a straw bed with a farm animal or two, and it always surprised Cecilia that whenever he came home her husband was seldom dirty or bedraggled despite his wayward existence. Tonight, he was wearing a pair of baggy, workman’s trousers and one of the warm, cotton twill shirts Cecilia had made him, loose at the neck. The large, hessian holdall he was never without was on the floor at his feet.
Now, reluctantly, he let go of her, and Cecilia instinctively drew her dressing gown around her, tying it tightly around her waist. ‘How did you find us, Albert?’ she enquired casually. ‘Of course, I had no way of letting you know that we had changed addresses since you were last home.’
He grinned down at her. ‘Yes – it was a bit of a shock to find that our cottages had all gone but I soon found out what had been going on and they told me at the pub where I’d find you.’ He gazed around him. ‘Sure, an’ this is a very posh room, Cissy … this is what they call a “parlour”, isn’t it?’
Cecilia half-smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it is, Albert,’ she said. ‘And our kitchen is bigger, too. I’ll show you around our property in a minute. But I expect you’d like something to eat?’
‘No thanks, Cissy. I stopped on my way for bread and cheese and a pint. But I’d love a cup of tea if you’ve got one.’ He glanced down. ‘I was given this bird at my last farm … thought it would do for our dinner tomorrow.’
Albert picked up the chicken and holdall, and together they went through the kitchen and into the scullery, where Cecilia filled the kettle and put it on the gas stove. She turned to look up at him.
‘See what luxuries we have now, Albert? And we have a bath, and our own lavatory – and the fireplace in the kitchen is just for sitting around, now. Mr McCann is keeping us all up to date … so long as we can pay the extra.’
Albert whistled through his teeth as he glanced around, clearly impressed, and presently they went back into the kitchen with their tray of tea, where they sat opposite each other as if he’d never gone away.
‘So, Albert, has business been good for you these last months?’ Cecilia said.
‘Not bad, Cissy, not bad. Good days, bad days. You know how it is.’
As she gazed across at him, Cecilia was fairly certain that he must often be unfaithful to her. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. He was an attractive man, and plenty of women would flirt with him and wouldn’t he want to respond in the natural, masculine way? Men could do what they liked and get away with it, they could have their fun and just walk away. No fearful repercussions for them.
Cecilia shut her mind against those thoughts. There was no point going into matters like that. They were better left alone.
‘You didn’t come home at Christmas, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘The children were very disappointed.’
He sighed heavily. ‘No, sorry about that, Cissy. But there was family trouble over there at the time … one of my brothers got himself into a bit of a mess with the law, to I stayed to help sort things out.’
Cecilia didn’t bother to reply to that. Loyalty to all those brothers and sisters over there, his family – but what about this family? His children?
He bent down to pick up the holdall. ‘I’ve brought some little gifts for my bairns,’ he said, ‘and something for my beautiful wife.’ Reaching right into the bag he drew out a small parcel, wrapped in pretty paper. He winked across at Cecilia. ‘This is for my favourite wife.’
Slowly, Cecilia took it from him and opened it. And when she saw what was inside she caught her breath for a second. It was a dainty shawl in black lace, scalloped all around the edge and heavily embossed with jewelled colours of red and green and purple and slashes of sun yellow, and it glistened and shone in the light as she carefully draped it around her shoulders. Not that she ever went anywhere where she could show it off, Cecilia thought briefly, but that didn’t matter. She’d never owned anything as lovely as this and it felt so light and luxurious.
‘There now,’ Albert said softly, ‘and didn’t I know that it was just the thing for my Cissy?’ He got up and put his arms around her. ‘Cissy, my anamchara, my soul mate, my sweetheart.’ Then he placed his lips tenderly on hers.
How did he manage to worm his way back into her good books each time? This absent soul mate, this far-away sweetheart? But he did, and she smiled up at him.
‘Thank you, Albert, for the shawl,’ she said, glad that she had something to give him, too. It was a waistcoat – the same pattern as she’d once made for Mr McCann, in yellow and brown check which would go nicely with trousers of any colour. Meticulously crafted, as always, it had lain in the bottom of the drawer where she kept Albert’s clean things for when – and if – he came home. She would give it to him tomorrow.
After he’d finished his third cup of tea, Albert said – ‘Can I go up and see my babies, my bairns, Cissy? It’s been a long time.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she retorted lightly. ‘But yes, of course, Albert. But no sound … I don’t want them disturbed.’
Noiselessly, the two went upstairs and Cecilia ushered Albert into the children’s room. As Albert gazed down, his eyes filled with tears.
‘Our bairns are gifts from God, aren’t they, Cissy?’ he whispered. ‘Little Joe has grown so big … he’s going to be strong like his dad!’ And after a moment – ‘He and Phoebe are so alike, aren’t they, with their cute little noses and brown curly hair … and just look at our Lexi! Was there ever a more beautiful child in the whole world, Cissy?’ He paused for a moment. ‘There’s always been something about our Lexi … sharp and quick as a knife, and so determined. You can see it in her face, even asleep, that firm little chin …’
‘Lexi is a wonderful child to me, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘Always so helpful and lovely with the younger ones, especially when I’m trying to finish something I’m making, and time and money are short.’ Cecilia didn’t want to prick Albert’s conscience by saying too much about her own way of life and what it entailed. After all, by accepting it, she had sealed her own fate, hadn’t she?
‘Of course, Lexi finished school at the beginning of the year,’ Cecilia went on. ‘She insisted on it, even though I would have liked her to stay on.’ Cecilia sighed. ‘She is so determined to find work, to try and make her way in the world, young though she is. She has got a little job at the sweet shop.’
‘Ah well, then, our Lexi is special,’ Albert said, ‘I always knew it. And she’s going to do well in life, isn’t she … do something out of the ordinary. You just wait and see.’
‘If you say so, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘But in our world she’s going to need a miracle, or the luck of the Irish for that to happen.’
They left quietly, and as they reached the other bedroom Cecilia opened the door and nodded. ‘I … we … have a room to ourselves now, Albert,’ she said.
He smiled down at her with that familiar, dark, sensuous smile she knew so well. Then he yawned, slipping his arm around her waist. ‘Sure, and isn’t it time for us to warm that bed?’ he murmured. After all, a man had certain rights.
Cecilia shook her head firmly. ‘You get ready for bed, Albert,’ she said, ‘but I have to pluck and draw that chicken if we’re going to have it for our dinner tomorrow.’
They went downstairs to the scullery where Albert washed himself at the sink while Cecilia sat at the table and started on the chicken. As he went past her, he touched her shoulder.
‘Don’t be long,’ he said.
Although it was now very late Cecilia took her time over the task. She was in no hurry to be a wife to Albert tonight, and anyway, he’d be asleep before she went back upstairs. He’d obviously had a few pints that evening.
She finished what she was doing, then stood and glanced at herself in the small mirror above the sink. She breathed in slowly. She was 42 years old, and looking about 60, with her brown hair going rapidly grey, her face which had once been thought attractive becoming lined, the dark shadows under her eyes making her look permanently tired.
As she stared back at herself, Cecilia recalled Albert’s words about Lexi. About her being, or doing, something special. But it was a pointless thought, a complete waste of time. Everyone knew there was little hope for women. For most, their lot in life was to bear children, keep their men happy, and do housework.
Cecilia paused before going upstairs. It was all very well her husband turning up unexpectedly like he had, but she did not want any more babies. Thankful though she was to have her three healthy children, they must be enough. She could not cope with another mouth to feed, another little one to provide for. And if the worst happened after Albert’s flying visit, she knew she could definitely not cope with the deadly process of trying to interfere with nature …
Upstairs, Cecilia went into the bedroom noiselessly and looked down at her husband. He was lying straight as a rod with his eyes closed and Cecilia smiled – the rhythmic snoring from his partly open lips reassured her that he would not wake easily, and that nothing more would be required of her that day.
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Rosie James
A family at breaking point. A nation at war…1914. Young Lexi doesn’t want much – just her family’s happiness. She’s been working all the hours she can at the local sweet shop to help her mother lift her little brother and sister out of poverty. Maybe one day, if she tries hard enough, they can save enough to leave their tiny, cramped flat – and terrifying landlord, Mr McCann – behind. Although Lexi can’t help but wish her friendship with the landlord’s son, Johnny, could turn into something more.They say it will all be over by Christmas. But with the country still at war months later, Lexi turns all her attention to making the sweet shop’s windows cheery, and look for small ways to keep her family’s sprits high. And, with courage, she might one day manage to help her family overcome the hardest of times.An unforgettable story of family, friendship and courage which will warm your heart and fill you with pride. The perfect emotional wartime read for fans of Katie Flynn and Dilly Court.Previously published as On Christmas Day
A family at breaking point. A nation at war…
1914. Young Lexi doesn’t want much – just her family’s happiness. She’s been working all the hours she can at the local sweet shop to help her mother lift her little brother and sister out of poverty. Maybe one day, if she tries hard enough, they can save enough to leave their tiny, cramped flat – and terrifying landlord, Mr McCann – behind. Although Lexi can’t help but wish her friendship with the landlord’s son, Johnny, could turn into something more.
They say it will all be over by Christmas. But with the country still at war when the snow begins to fall, Lexi turns all her attention to making the sweet shop’s windows cheery, and keeping her family’s sprits high. And, with courage, she might one day manage to give her family a magical Christmas, the like of which they never dared to dream of…
On Christmas Day
Rosie James
ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES
Copyright (#ulink_d88dab1d-855f-5650-aac0-9cd35bffe599)
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018
Copyright © Rosie James 2018
Rosie James asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
E-book Edition © February 2018 ISBN: 9780008282639
Version: 2018-10-26
Born in Bristol of Welsh parentage, ROSIE JAMES has always been a compulsive writer, her early enthusiasms kept alive by winning the occasional childhood prize, and much later by seeing her articles, short stories and romantic novels published. She is a trained singer, and as a lyric coloratura soprano, her roles include those in opera, operetta and oratorio. She enjoys theatre and eating out with friends, entertaining regularly at home - and when her beloved children and grandchildren are there as well, the party really gets going. Rosie lives in Somerset.
Contents
Cover (#u0fbf8a1c-d70c-5f85-89e2-ae1a9016f122)
Blurb (#ue734b6f5-ce91-56f6-89ea-210c7d91b046)
Title Page (#u29c75531-7abc-5eec-90bb-5f77372061e9)
Author Bio (#u298bc095-f601-507d-8fb3-791b4a36f6aa)
Chapter One (#ulink_a72c2461-88c3-57f0-ae88-8425faaf0009)
Chapter Two (#ulink_7ffa69a0-45cb-5f69-99ab-aa39996f556d)
Chapter Three (#ulink_0e801ef4-005a-5cc4-866f-2c14664e0f0c)
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Copyright (#ulink_4a0d3d5c-61df-589e-a4f8-14f4df17dca8)
Chapter One (#ulink_b1065a61-dc78-5aed-be3e-ca74bccd8c12)
March 1914At ten minutes to seven, and using her key to open the door, Lexi entered the sweet shop, the familiar, mouth-watering smell making her smile. To fourteen-year-old Lexi, it was like coming home, because during the summer holidays last year she’d been entrusted to run the place during the lunch hour each day so that the owner, Miss Jean Lewis, could have a rest. And the responsibility had been just up Lexi’s street – though she’d had to beg her mother to let her take the little job. Cecilia Martin was very protective of her three children and had tried to dissuade her elder daughter from entering the world of work too soon.
But Lexi had been determined, and had worked for the whole five weeks for a couple of hours each day, learning quickly along the way. Miss Lewis was a generous employer, and soon Lexi’s little cardboard box which held her pocket money had begun to feel quite heavy.
But now Lexi had left school for the last time – despite her mother’s pleas that she should stay on longer. But why, Lexi had argued, why didn’t her mother want her to grow up? Cecilia still had Phoebe, six, and Joe, three, to coddle and fuss over.
Then, as if it was meant to be, Miss Lewis had advertised for part-time help once again – which is why Lexi was back where she felt she truly belonged - behind the counter of the town’s prosperous little sweet shop. And her hours, from 7 to 10 in the morning and again from noon to 2 in the afternoon - plus the occasional extra hour in the evening to help with stock-taking - fitted in perfectly with all the domestic chores which Lexi did each day for her mother. Washing and ironing, sweeping and cleaning, and looking after the younger ones while Cecilia worked three nights a week at the laundry as well as toiling away each day at their scrubbed wooden table with her Singer sewing machine, mending, altering, patching, the turning of bed sheets sides to middle for all the hotels and guesthouses. Cecilia’s meticulous handiwork was how she kept her family fed and the rent paid. Her husband, Albert, a travelling salesman, was away far more than he was at home, his irregular contributions to the family purse leaving Cecilia the main bread winner - a role she accepted without complaint and with certain pride. Unlike many of the poor in the area who would let their children run around all hours of the day and night in hand-me-down shoes, or no shoes at all, Cecilia protected her children with the determination of a tigress, and all in all, she considered herself luckier than most. She was a decent citizen of Bath, never in debt, and bringing up well-mannered children, while many others barely existed, relying on parish relief to just about stay alive. Yet despite that, a lot of the women smoked, their men often coming home drunk
Now, Lexi took off her coat and scarf and tied her neat green shop apron around her waist. Then she glanced around her, noting that as usual, Miss Lewis had left everything in place for the day’s trading.
It was quite a dark little shop, but brought to sparkling life by the rows and rows of fat glass jars all up there on the shelves … full of boiled sweets, toffees, bulls’ eyes, aniseed balls, hundreds and thousands, chocolate drops, and sticks of liquorice to dip into sherbet. The cigarettes and tobacco were always kept high up on a shelf.
Turning, Lexi unlocked the small safe under the counter and took out the bags containing all the coins, emptying the money into each little compartment ready to receive the day’s takings. Any pound or ten shilling notes were tucked in safely at the back.
Handling money had never been a problem for Lexi and she didn’t need to count on her fingers to work out the right change. And weighing up 1 oz or 2 oz or a quarter pound of things, was part of the fun of the job. Instinctively, Lexi moved the heavy weights of the scales to form a neat pile on the counter, then took a cloth to give the shallow brass pans a quick wipe-over. The little dustpan and brush kept for clearing up any spillage of sugar or sherbet was there on the side. Miss Lewis liked everything kept nice and tidy which was something else that came easily to Lexi. She did plenty of that at home
Any early customers were the children spending their farthing or half penny pocket money on their way to the nearby school – the school which Lexi had only recently left and which Phoebe now went to and Joe would, too, next year – but not many children had money for sweets. It was largely men coming in for their cigarettes or tobacco.
But this little shop held far greater significance for Lexi than finding her first real job, because it was here that she’d made her very first purchase with her own money – money earned singing carols outside public houses a couple of Christmases ago. Somehow, she’d found the courage to do this entirely by herself and hadn’t told a soul, not even Johnny who was her best friend. She and Johnny didn’t usually have secrets from each other, but Lexi had wanted to do this alone, had thought it important to stand on her own two feet. The pubs and beer houses had been full of men on that cold morning, all spilling out on to the pavements as they’d toasted the festive season, and nearly all of them had put something, a copper or two, into the enamel mug which Lexi had held out hopefully.
Lexi loved music, loved to sing, knew every carol by heart as well as all the popular songs which her Dada had taught her as he accompanied her on his harmonica or banjo when he was home. And she’d always been the one chosen to sing solo at school, her clear treble voice reaching the top notes like a bell.
But the sole purpose for her carol singing that day had been so that she could buy her mother a beautiful present.
Lexi had seen the little beaded purse here, in the sweet shop window for several weeks and had made up her mind that, somehow, she would find the money to pay for it. As well as the confectionery always on display, Miss Lewis did sometimes buy small gifts to put in the window, especially at Christmas time - jewelled trinket boxes, pretty handkerchief sachets, ladies’ dainty ivory fans – but it was the beaded purse which had caught Lexi’s eye. And as the money had clinked into her mug while she’d gone on singing, it had made her realize that if she was determined, and worked hard, she could get whatever she wanted. And the moment there’d been enough money to buy the present, and even some left over to buy sweets for her sister and brother, had been the moment when Lexi had made her big decision.
One day, she was going to be rich – perhaps even as rich as Mr McCann.
Mr McCann was Johnny’s dad, and he not only owned property all over Bath – including their ancient cottage in the run-down rank of dwellings on the edge of town – he was also a money lender, charging high interest. Most people were afraid of him, calling him “Foxy McCann” behind his back. But Cecilia said that was very disrespectful and that he must have worked extremely hard for his money. He was certainly never called Foxy in their house.
Lexi knew that she loved Johnny almost as much as she loved her brother and sister. Johnny used to go the same school as Lexi, and on her very first week, after she’d fallen down in the playground, there’d suddenly been this boy helping her up and dabbing her grazed knee with his clean white handkerchief. And as she’d gazed up into those kind dark eyes her tears had stopped almost at once. And that had been the start of a friendship which had grown stronger with every year that passed.
Now at almost sixteen years old, Johnny was nearly as tall as his brother Alfred who was two years older. But Alfred was not nearly as nice as Johnny. In fact, Alfred could be quite horrible at times. Johnny was never horrible and had the sort of face you wanted to keep looking at, a smiley, kind face, surrounded by soft black curls. All the girls loved Johnny but he was Lexi’s best friend so no one else got a look in. Lexi hated the thought that he would soon be going away to college, like Alfred, because that would mean they’d only see each other during the holidays.
Johnny and Alfred lived with their dad in the big house at the far end of the street called Grey Gables. Everyone knew that their mama had died a long time ago and Lexi was really sorry about that, because she and Phoebe and Joe had a mother and a father – even if he didn’t come home very often. It must be awful not to have a mama to look after you.
One of the worst things about Johnny’s dad was that he had a very loud voice, which sometimes made Lexi shake inside. And he never smiled, probably because his twirly moustache got in the way, or perhaps it was because he always walked with a limp and so his legs hurt. He was also very tall so that Lexi had to bend her head right back to look up at his face – which wasn’t often because she tried to make sure he was out when she visited Johnny at their house.
Despite being a bit afraid of him, Lexi couldn’t help admiring Mr McCann and was determined that she, too, would work hard and be successful like him, and she wouldn’t care if people called her names because one day she was going to earn her way to the very top of the world. She wasn’t too sure how she was going to make that happen, she only knew that one day she would.
And Lexi Martin certainly had plans.
First of all she was going to buy them a house of their own so that they would never have to pay rent ever again. Thanks to her mother’s tireless working hours they were never late paying their rent – but many people weren’t so lucky and were sometimes evicted when they couldn’t find the money in time. Lexi knew all about this because quite often she would go with Johnny on the rounds when he collected the rents for his father, taking her turn in carrying the strong leather bag which held all the money. Johnny always gave her a penny from the tiny wage he received for the Friday evening task. And later, whenever Mr McCann was safely out of the way, the two of them would go upstairs to the study at Grey Gables to lock away the rents and they’d sometimes take it in turns to sit in the huge leather chair by the desk and swing each other round and round until they were dizzy. Once or twice they’d even played shove ha’penny because the desk was just the right size. But Lexi only ever went upstairs at the big house when Mr McCann was away.
It was getting on for ten o’clock when Miss Lewis came through from her living quarters to take over. Lexi glanced at her quickly, thinking how pretty the owner must have been when she was young. She was a small, dainty woman, her thick hair, which would once have been dark brown, was now almost all grey and held on top in a neat bun. She had a ready smile and shrewd grey eyes which always lit up when she was speaking to anyone – especially to children.
‘Oh Lexi,’ she said, ‘it is so lovely to have you here again, my dear! Thanks to you, I don’t have such an early start in the mornings, and I’m also able to have a hot dinner and a bit of a rest at midday.’ She tutted. ‘I really should not have waited this long before seeking more permanent help, but after my sister died I felt it was my duty to keep the business going exactly as she would have wanted. It had always been just the two of us, you see. We bought the shop together many years ago, long before you were born, Lexi – and I haven’t felt able to bring a stranger in, if you know what I mean.’
Lexi nodded. She had never seen anyone else behind the counter of the well-known sweet shop.
‘But for some reason you have never felt like a stranger, Lexi,’ Jean Lewis went on. ‘You have always been one of our regular customers, of course, but from the moment you came in to buy that Christmas present for your mother I felt I knew you, I felt I knew the sort of person you were. The sort of person who I could get along with … perhaps like the daughter I never had.’ The owner looked away for a moment. ‘Neither my sister nor I ever married, so no sons or daughters for us, I’m afraid,’ she added.
Lexi sensed Miss Lewis’s sadness and said quickly, ‘Well, I loved being here last year, and am enjoying every single moment of working for you now, Miss Lewis. I’ll be very happy to help with stock-taking again, any evening you would like me to, and the time just flies when I’m behind the counter.’
Jean Lewis nodded. ‘That’s because we see so many different customers, isn’t it? We soon get to know the ones we hope will call on us again, and those who are more difficult to please. But you got the hang of things straightaway and have an excellent attitude Lexi … which is essential in the business world.’ The owner raised one eyebrow. ‘And you are far quicker adding up than I am! When we’re doing a count I find it hard to keep up with you and your young brain!’
Lexi smiled happily. ‘I love figure work and have never found it difficult.’ She paused, then said, ‘One day, Miss Lewis, I am going to have a business of my own because I want to make enough money to buy us a house, a really nice house. For my mother and my sister and brother.’ There was a brief silence before Lexi went on slowly. ‘You see, my father can’t help because he’s not often at home – his work takes him away all the time. So – I’ve decided that it’s up to me to earn all I can as soon as possible and working for you, here, is the start of that long climb up the ladder to succeed in my aim.’
Miss Lewis’s eyes softened at Lexi’s enthusiasm and obvious loyalty to her family. She knew very little about the girl’s background but was only too aware that there were plenty of absent fathers who left their work-weary wives to shoulder the parental burden. She touched Lexi’s shoulder.
‘Well, if I am any judge of character, Lexi, I am sure you will succeed in whatever you do. Any employer will be extremely fortunate to have you on their books, and if I have one word of advice it’s that you continue to have faith in yourself, faith in your ability. Hold your head up high, and be proud. If you believe in yourself, others will believe in you.’
Just then, as Lexi was preparing to leave, the door opened and a large man entered. Removing his trilby hat, he came forward.
‘Good morning Miss Lewis!’ he exclaimed heartily, ‘And can I have 4 oz of my usual Capstan, please?’
‘Of course, and good morning Councillor Larson,’ Jean Lewis replied, reaching up for the tobacco.
As Lexi moved towards the door to leave, the man frowned suddenly and put a hand out to stop her. ‘Just a moment,’ he said. ‘I know you, young lady, don’t I?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Lexi faltered. She’d never seen him before.
‘You are the girl with the most beautiful voice I’ve ever heard!’ the man went on. ‘You sang carols outside The Star, a couple of Christmases ago, didn’t you? And I have never forgotten it! Tell me that you’re still singing!’
Lexi smiled, relieved. She’d wondered what was coming! ‘Oh yes – I still like to sing,’ she said shyly.
Now Jean Lewis broke in. ‘Of course you are right, Mr Larson,’ she said brightly. ‘This is Lexi Martin, the young lady who sang carols that morning … which she did so that she could buy her mother a present she’d seen here in the window! And I remember, very well, how soon afterwards you came in to the shop for your tobacco and couldn’t stop telling me how this delightful young girl’s voice had enchanted everyone!’
Feeling almost overcome with embarrassment by all the compliments, Lexi opened the door to leave. Mr Larson stopped her a second time, looking down at her.
‘The town needs a young, talented singer like you, Miss Martin,’ he said. ‘We are looking for fresh, youthful performers to entertain our visitors at the Pump Room as they enjoy their refreshments – and in my opinion you may very well be exactly who we are looking for!’
Lexi’s mouth almost dropped in amazement. Was he talking about her?
‘Oh Lexi – how wonderful!’ Jean Lewis broke in enthusiastically. She turned to the man. ‘And how should Lexi go about this, Mr Larson?’
‘She should go down to the Guildhall, any morning after ten o’clock, and ask to speak to the entertainments manager,’ Mr Larson said. ‘Tell them that I have recommended you should have an audition – take some songs with you because the pianist may well be around at the same time but if he isn’t, arrangements can be made for later.’ He smiled at Lexi. ‘If you are accepted – which I am sure you will be – you will be paid a fee, of course. Not a fortune, naturally,’ he added cheerfully, ‘but enough to make all your efforts worthwhile.’
Eventually, Lexi was able to leave the shop, and began to make her way home, her head buzzing as if a thousand bees had flown in. Had that just happened? Or had she dreamed it? Had she, Lexi Martin, been invited to audition at Bath’s prestigious Pump Room? She’d never thought she’d step over the threshold in her life, let alone to possibly perform before people of rank!
Lexi stopped in her tracks for a moment. Could this be the next little bit of her big plan? Because if she was chosen to sing, she would be paid a fee, so the Councillor had said …
She bit her lip as she walked on slowly, making up her mind that for now, the only soul she would tell about this would be Johnny … Johnny would be amazed, and excited for her. But she certainly would not mention it to her mother, because Lexi knew very well the reaction she’d get.
In Cecilia’s opinion, her daughter was still a child, far too young to be assuming any financial responsibility. There was plenty of time for all that.
Chapter Two (#ulink_35b9d7ea-6ee5-507c-b422-6e7645bc0096)
Later that night, Cecilia paused on her way upstairs to peep into the bedroom which her children shared. Going over quietly, she gazed down. Lexi and Phoebe slept in the one bigger bed, while Joe was still in his cot, his thumb in his mouth, as usual. Cecilia drew in a long, deep breath. They were her sole reason for being alive.
Just then, Lexi stirred, smiling and muttering something in her sleep. What was she dreaming about, Cecilia wondered, this precious little girl, who’d arrived six weeks early? The very first glimpse Cecilia had had of her tiny one had been enough to convince her that she’d delivered a princess. Someone just as lovely to look at as Princess Alexandra of Denmark, wife of the wretched man who had become King Edward VII, that drunken, womanizing monarch now thankfully departed this life.
And what had that dear little foreign princess ever done to deserve such a fate, marrying him at the tender age of sixteen? But as far as anyone knew, and from all the pictures in the newspapers, Alexandra, known as Alix, had always remained as lovely as ever, and truly faithful to her undeserving husband. And Cecilia had known almost at once that her baby was going to be called Alexandra as a sort of act of loyalty to the uncomplaining queen. But rather than Alix, Cecilia’s little giirl would always be known as Lexi, a short, sweet, and simple name.
As the years had gone on, nothing had changed Cecilia’s opinion of her first-born who was rather small for her age, but whose long, golden, wavy hair surrounded a cherubic face and the brightest green eyes and longest lashes she’d ever seen, convincing Cecilia that she had given birth to an infant just as regal as any born to Edward and Alexandra.
Then, slowly, and in the quietness of the room alone with her thoughts, Cecilia put her hand to her mouth for a second.
What if Lexi, her darling Lexi, had never existed? What if she had never taken her first breath, nor uttered that first infant cry? What if something dreadful had occurred while Cecilia’s baby had still been in the womb? Things, bad things, frequently happened to the unborn, either from a deliberate act or through an act of God…..
Cecilia shook herself, annoyed at these dreadful thoughts. Lexi was here, alive and well, and as beautiful as she would always be.
In the other small bedroom, Cecilia slowly got undressed. It was surprising how quickly she and the children had got used to this new cottage which had two bedrooms. Before, she and Albert had had to make do with a small curtained-off space in the kitchen for their sleeping quarters. Not only that, but now there was a small sitting room downstairs as well as a kitchen and scullery. When they’d moved in last year the place had seemed as big as a mansion.
Cecilia made a face to herself. Albert hadn’t even seen the new place yet, knew nothing of the sudden notice to quit which all the tenants in their old rank had received from Mr McCann last year. Everyone had been given a month to find other accommodation, or to accept one of the new cottages which would be double the rent. A familiar well of anger rose in Cecilia’s throat. Landlords had the whip hand every time and there was nothing that could be done about it. No law existed that favoured tenants.
Still, Cecilia had to admit that the new cottages were a distinct improvement. The rooms were lighter and airier, the kitchen was bigger, the fireplace quite posh – and they even had a small gas stove now for cooking and heating water. In their old kitchen the fire had never been allowed to go out – well, they’d depended on it for all their needs – but it had made the little kitchen so comfortable. Lexi and Johnny had loved going out into the fields to collect twigs and bits of wood to keep the fire alive and to supplement the precious coal. There was no need now to keep a bucket of coal dust, purchased for a penny or two, to damp the fire down and keep the glowing embers alive.
But the best thing of all was that they now had a bath in the scullery, the water heated by a gas boiler, and next to that there was a lavatory – so much more comfortable and convenient than everyone having to wait their turn for the outside privy, like they used to. There’d usually been a small queue of women there, smoking, sharing a joke, often someone eaten out with anxiety that their time of the month had come and gone with no sign … exchanging advice about all their personal problems. Cecilia bit her lip as she thought back. Some of that camaraderie, that female support, seemed to have –disappeared – not that it mattered to her now, nor ever would again. Cecilia Martin had everything she needed.
One extra advantage of the move was that they were now closer to the school so Phoebe and, eventually, Joe could get there safely by themselves. The snag – and it was a big snag – was that increase in rent. Yet somehow, by accepting more night work at the laundry and doing as much private tailoring as she could fit in, Cecilia had been able to afford it. There’d been others in the row who hadn’t been so lucky and who’d had to cadge accommodation from friends or relatives until they could find something more permanent and more affordable.
As she got into bed Cecilia’s lips tightened. Mr McCann had no idea how the other half of the world lived, no idea at all. But she always kept quiet, and had never, ever, indulged in gossiping with others about their landlord. With most people, his name was mud. But he paid his employees well enough, and Cecilia often did housework at Grey Gables, not to mention answering Mr McCann’s incessant need for new waistcoats and smart jackets – which she created from scratch. And there seemed to be always something that he’d bought which needed altering. His wardrobe must be bulging with clothes.
Cecilia was pensive as she drifted off to sleep. The thing she was finding irritating was trying to persuade Lexi that supporting the family was not her problem, and certainly not a child’s responsibility. Cecilia, was well able to cope alone – she’d had plenty of practice, after all. But she had at last accepted that the little job Lexi had at the sweet shop seemed to suit her daughter, who’d never seemed happier – it was a very respectable job, after all. And the money Lexi earned did come in very handy, although Cecilia would only take a little of it. Cecilia half-smiled to herself. Lexi had such grand ambitions, was so determined to save money, to be someone, do something special one day. Yet what chance did people in their class have, to raise themselves above the norms of the time? No chance, none at all.
Cecilia turned over restlessly. The best thing that Lexi could do was to become a lady’s maid in a grand household, where you were paid a good salary and your bed and board were thrown in. And most of all, you were respected. It gave you status. Lexi would be just perfect at the job – she’d done well at school, she spoke well, she wrote well, and people seemed to like her. Yes, that was the thing, Cecilia decided. If Lexi became a lady’s personal maid she would one day live in a grand house with a very superior address, and never have to worry about finding a roof over her head.
But if and when the time came, Cecilia would warn Lexi to be very cautious in her choice of husband – should she ever want to get married. Little Princess Alexandra could never have guessed what had awaited her – and neither had Cecilia’s mother who’d married a man who’d beaten her and all her children without mercy. Which was why Cecilia had run away from home at the age of twelve with nothing but the clothes she’d stood up in and a little money she’d secretly stored. Then, going from place to place, she’d found work wherever she could get it; shops, hotels, scrubbing, cleaning, a maid of all work. But it hadn’t taken long for her talent with a needle to be recognized and soon she was repairing hotel pillow cases, worn sheets, tablecloths. It all helped her to stay alive with no questions asked of her and with no one ever trying to find her. People of her class were invisible and if they disappeared, no one cared or even noticed.
It was late, and Cecilia had only just managed to finally get to sleep when she was roused by a gentle tapping on the front door. She sat up quickly and waited. Who had visitors at this time of night? There it was again – three short taps, and she got up, reached for her dressing gown and went downstairs. Before she opened the door, she peeped cautiously through the window, then let out a gasp of surprise.
‘Albert’!
Cecilia opened the door and her husband came inside. He was carrying his holdall and a plump, white chicken, still warm, which he put down carefully on the floor. He was the first to break the few moments’ silence.
‘Well now, isn’t my lovely wife after going to give her man a hug, then?’ He put his arms around her but she averted her face so that their lips didn’t meet. ‘Sure, and you’re pleased to see me, aren’t you, Cissy?’
Albert Martin was a stocky, well-built, muscular man, his hugs like those of a bear, and however angry Cecilia often felt about her husband and his erratic lifestyle, there was still a place in her heart for him. He was the children’s father, after all, the man she’d fallen for the moment she’d drawn a pint of Guinness for him at the bar where they’d first seen each other. Those wicked Irish eyes, that irrepressible laugh, his conjuring tricks, his deftness with a pack of cards … and his harmonica that he played with expert ease to anyone who would listen. All the favourites, the sing-along tunes that automatically drew people around him in the bars or pubs, wherever he went. He had certainly drawn Cecilia to him more than sixteen years ago, and he hadn’t had to ask her twice to be his wife … She had instinctively known that he was a kind man who would never treat her brutally, and he never had. He’d never laid a finger on either her or the children.
But neither had he provided for them, not really … because Albert liked freedom, an unrestricted way of life, and it didn’t seem to bother him that he was hardly the perfect husband. After a very short time into their marriage, he’d taken off, jaunty as you like, and Cecilia hadn’t seen him again for eighteen months. Then, after Lexi was born, he’d gone back to his family in Ireland and hadn’t returned for five whole years. which had made Cecilia believe that he’d deserted her for good. But eventually he did turn up, and in the next few years Phoebe and Joe were born and life returned to its rackety, unpredictable normal.
When he did come home he would always bring gifts for the children and money for her – money which Cecilia always hid away safely in case she ever got really short. And it seldom bothered her that she would always be the main bread winner because she was used to it by now, used to fending for herself. She had accepted her lot, and was as happy in her role as Albert was in his. Theirs was a strange alliance, she sometimes thought, but it worked well enough – if she let it.
Albert’s “business” was a variable affair consisting of buying anything he could find at low cost and then selling on at a profit. He had a shrewd eye for a bargain and would spot things in markets or wayside stalls, buy in sufficient quantity to encourage a quick sale, then cycle to the outskirts and convince prospective buyers that he was giving them the chance of a lifetime. And when business stalled for a bit, he would find work on any farm that needed an extra hand, or in any pub that could do with a skilled puller of pints. As long as he was never anywhere for long, Albert Martin was happy. And whether it was his willingness to put his back into anything asked of him, or whether it was the luck of the Irish, he was seldom short of food or shelter – for which he was rarely expected to pay. It did mean he’d sometimes shared a straw bed with a farm animal or two, and it always surprised Cecilia that whenever he came home her husband was seldom dirty or bedraggled despite his wayward existence. Tonight, he was wearing a pair of baggy, workman’s trousers and one of the warm, cotton twill shirts Cecilia had made him, loose at the neck. The large, hessian holdall he was never without was on the floor at his feet.
Now, reluctantly, he let go of her, and Cecilia instinctively drew her dressing gown around her, tying it tightly around her waist. ‘How did you find us, Albert?’ she enquired casually. ‘Of course, I had no way of letting you know that we had changed addresses since you were last home.’
He grinned down at her. ‘Yes – it was a bit of a shock to find that our cottages had all gone but I soon found out what had been going on and they told me at the pub where I’d find you.’ He gazed around him. ‘Sure, an’ this is a very posh room, Cissy … this is what they call a “parlour”, isn’t it?’
Cecilia half-smiled. ‘Yes, I suppose it is, Albert,’ she said. ‘And our kitchen is bigger, too. I’ll show you around our property in a minute. But I expect you’d like something to eat?’
‘No thanks, Cissy. I stopped on my way for bread and cheese and a pint. But I’d love a cup of tea if you’ve got one.’ He glanced down. ‘I was given this bird at my last farm … thought it would do for our dinner tomorrow.’
Albert picked up the chicken and holdall, and together they went through the kitchen and into the scullery, where Cecilia filled the kettle and put it on the gas stove. She turned to look up at him.
‘See what luxuries we have now, Albert? And we have a bath, and our own lavatory – and the fireplace in the kitchen is just for sitting around, now. Mr McCann is keeping us all up to date … so long as we can pay the extra.’
Albert whistled through his teeth as he glanced around, clearly impressed, and presently they went back into the kitchen with their tray of tea, where they sat opposite each other as if he’d never gone away.
‘So, Albert, has business been good for you these last months?’ Cecilia said.
‘Not bad, Cissy, not bad. Good days, bad days. You know how it is.’
As she gazed across at him, Cecilia was fairly certain that he must often be unfaithful to her. He wouldn’t be able to help himself. He was an attractive man, and plenty of women would flirt with him and wouldn’t he want to respond in the natural, masculine way? Men could do what they liked and get away with it, they could have their fun and just walk away. No fearful repercussions for them.
Cecilia shut her mind against those thoughts. There was no point going into matters like that. They were better left alone.
‘You didn’t come home at Christmas, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘The children were very disappointed.’
He sighed heavily. ‘No, sorry about that, Cissy. But there was family trouble over there at the time … one of my brothers got himself into a bit of a mess with the law, to I stayed to help sort things out.’
Cecilia didn’t bother to reply to that. Loyalty to all those brothers and sisters over there, his family – but what about this family? His children?
He bent down to pick up the holdall. ‘I’ve brought some little gifts for my bairns,’ he said, ‘and something for my beautiful wife.’ Reaching right into the bag he drew out a small parcel, wrapped in pretty paper. He winked across at Cecilia. ‘This is for my favourite wife.’
Slowly, Cecilia took it from him and opened it. And when she saw what was inside she caught her breath for a second. It was a dainty shawl in black lace, scalloped all around the edge and heavily embossed with jewelled colours of red and green and purple and slashes of sun yellow, and it glistened and shone in the light as she carefully draped it around her shoulders. Not that she ever went anywhere where she could show it off, Cecilia thought briefly, but that didn’t matter. She’d never owned anything as lovely as this and it felt so light and luxurious.
‘There now,’ Albert said softly, ‘and didn’t I know that it was just the thing for my Cissy?’ He got up and put his arms around her. ‘Cissy, my anamchara, my soul mate, my sweetheart.’ Then he placed his lips tenderly on hers.
How did he manage to worm his way back into her good books each time? This absent soul mate, this far-away sweetheart? But he did, and she smiled up at him.
‘Thank you, Albert, for the shawl,’ she said, glad that she had something to give him, too. It was a waistcoat – the same pattern as she’d once made for Mr McCann, in yellow and brown check which would go nicely with trousers of any colour. Meticulously crafted, as always, it had lain in the bottom of the drawer where she kept Albert’s clean things for when – and if – he came home. She would give it to him tomorrow.
After he’d finished his third cup of tea, Albert said – ‘Can I go up and see my babies, my bairns, Cissy? It’s been a long time.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she retorted lightly. ‘But yes, of course, Albert. But no sound … I don’t want them disturbed.’
Noiselessly, the two went upstairs and Cecilia ushered Albert into the children’s room. As Albert gazed down, his eyes filled with tears.
‘Our bairns are gifts from God, aren’t they, Cissy?’ he whispered. ‘Little Joe has grown so big … he’s going to be strong like his dad!’ And after a moment – ‘He and Phoebe are so alike, aren’t they, with their cute little noses and brown curly hair … and just look at our Lexi! Was there ever a more beautiful child in the whole world, Cissy?’ He paused for a moment. ‘There’s always been something about our Lexi … sharp and quick as a knife, and so determined. You can see it in her face, even asleep, that firm little chin …’
‘Lexi is a wonderful child to me, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘Always so helpful and lovely with the younger ones, especially when I’m trying to finish something I’m making, and time and money are short.’ Cecilia didn’t want to prick Albert’s conscience by saying too much about her own way of life and what it entailed. After all, by accepting it, she had sealed her own fate, hadn’t she?
‘Of course, Lexi finished school at the beginning of the year,’ Cecilia went on. ‘She insisted on it, even though I would have liked her to stay on.’ Cecilia sighed. ‘She is so determined to find work, to try and make her way in the world, young though she is. She has got a little job at the sweet shop.’
‘Ah well, then, our Lexi is special,’ Albert said, ‘I always knew it. And she’s going to do well in life, isn’t she … do something out of the ordinary. You just wait and see.’
‘If you say so, Albert,’ Cecilia said. ‘But in our world she’s going to need a miracle, or the luck of the Irish for that to happen.’
They left quietly, and as they reached the other bedroom Cecilia opened the door and nodded. ‘I … we … have a room to ourselves now, Albert,’ she said.
He smiled down at her with that familiar, dark, sensuous smile she knew so well. Then he yawned, slipping his arm around her waist. ‘Sure, and isn’t it time for us to warm that bed?’ he murmured. After all, a man had certain rights.
Cecilia shook her head firmly. ‘You get ready for bed, Albert,’ she said, ‘but I have to pluck and draw that chicken if we’re going to have it for our dinner tomorrow.’
They went downstairs to the scullery where Albert washed himself at the sink while Cecilia sat at the table and started on the chicken. As he went past her, he touched her shoulder.
‘Don’t be long,’ he said.
Although it was now very late Cecilia took her time over the task. She was in no hurry to be a wife to Albert tonight, and anyway, he’d be asleep before she went back upstairs. He’d obviously had a few pints that evening.
She finished what she was doing, then stood and glanced at herself in the small mirror above the sink. She breathed in slowly. She was 42 years old, and looking about 60, with her brown hair going rapidly grey, her face which had once been thought attractive becoming lined, the dark shadows under her eyes making her look permanently tired.
As she stared back at herself, Cecilia recalled Albert’s words about Lexi. About her being, or doing, something special. But it was a pointless thought, a complete waste of time. Everyone knew there was little hope for women. For most, their lot in life was to bear children, keep their men happy, and do housework.
Cecilia paused before going upstairs. It was all very well her husband turning up unexpectedly like he had, but she did not want any more babies. Thankful though she was to have her three healthy children, they must be enough. She could not cope with another mouth to feed, another little one to provide for. And if the worst happened after Albert’s flying visit, she knew she could definitely not cope with the deadly process of trying to interfere with nature …
Upstairs, Cecilia went into the bedroom noiselessly and looked down at her husband. He was lying straight as a rod with his eyes closed and Cecilia smiled – the rhythmic snoring from his partly open lips reassured her that he would not wake easily, and that nothing more would be required of her that day.
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