On Christmas Day Page 4

  War.

  War with Germany was now highly likely and Alfred had announced in no uncertain terms that he would be joining up as soon as it began. Reynard dragged a hand through his hair. If only the boy realized how dreadful war was, how unbelievably savage and cruel and terrifying. Surely in a civilized world there should be no war ever again? War was a terrible waste of life, of resources, of opportunities …

  But in their discussions Alfred had not wavered. He was going to volunteer for service and that was that.

  Reynard took a gulp from his glass. There was no use denying it, Alfred was a carbon copy of himself.

  Johnny, on the other hand, was different. No talk of war or girls with Johnny. You couldn’t count little Lexi, Lexi Martin, who seemed to scuttle out of sight as soon as she saw him. She was the daughter of the woman who helped Anna in the house now and then, a woman who was an expert with a needle. If Reynard needed the legs of a pair of trousers lengthened, or the sleeves of a new jacket brought down a tiny bit, Mrs Martin always obliged. And his favourite waistcoats were the ones she had made for him.

  He poured himself another glass of brandy, then sat down again, recoiling once more at what he had witnessed earlier. Then he put down his glass and picked up the small bunch of keys always kept behind the inkwell. Selecting the smallest key, he leaned forward and inserted it into the bottom drawer of the desk. This was his private drawer, the only one which was out of bounds to everyone else – Johnny had never opened it, Reynard knew that.

  Slowly, Reynard opened the drawer and took out a large brown envelope, realizing that his hands were shaking slightly – well, they usually did when he opened this envelope …

  Then, carefully, carefully, he slid out the photograph. That photograph.

  It was a picture of two young couples, standing close together, and smiling happily. One couple was Sylvia and himself – it always surprised him how young and carefree his wife looked in that shot. But he, as usual, was straight-faced … well, it was those teeth …

  And the other two in the picture were his best friend Roland, the only friend Reynard had ever had, and Roland’s wife. A pretty, dark-haired girl, full of life. In their fairly short acquaintance, they’d had such good times, the four of them. Enjoyed being together, trusted each other implicitly …

  For several minutes Reynard just sat there gazing at the picture, gazing into the past. Slowly, his forefinger traced the outline of the four in the photograph, as if by touching he might bring them all to life …

  Then he slid the picture back into the envelope, replaced it in the drawer which he locked again carefully, and stood up, leaving the study to return to his bedroom.

  Why had he done that, tonight? Why had he opened that drawer? Was it to punish himself, to make him even more miserable than he’d already been?

  Was confronting the past ever any help at all?

  Chapter Four

  Cecilia went back into the kitchen with her cup of tea and sat down gratefully in front of the fire.

  Today’s Sunday lunch had seen the last of the very plump chicken which Albert had brought home a few days earlier and nothing had been wasted – the neck, giblets, wing tips, and every scrap of offal used, ending with the carcass providing a pan of glorious stew, with parsley and dumplings and potatoes. Cecilia had wondered whether the bird had been given to Albert, as he’d said, or whether her husband had “acquired” it, but she preferred not to dwell on that because the children had loved it.

  It was lovely having Albert home, making them a proper family of five for once. The children, especially Lexi, had been so excited to see him again. Cecilia glanced down at them sprawled there on the floor, with Lexi testing Phoebe’s reading, and Joe laboriously colouring in a picture book – one of the several presents Albert had brought with him.

  He came through, then, from the scullery, stopping to wash his hands. He shot a glance at Cecilia. ‘Now then, Cissy – sure you’re not after minding me going out for a pint or two,’ he said. ‘I shan’t be long.’

  Cecilia didn’t even look up at him as she smiled. ‘Of course I don’t mind, Albert. You go and enjoy yourself.’ Though how anyone could take in another mouthful of anything, after all the food they’d just eaten, was beyond her. And why he would rather be in a crowded, smoke-filled pub than here with his family was another mystery to Cecilia. Surely he should rather be here with his children – he saw very little of them and they were growing up so fast.

  Cecilia glanced after him as he went, humming a little tune under his breath, and she wondered if Albert ever felt guilty about picking and choosing at life as he did. About having everything all his own way. Did it never occur to him that she could do with his company, with his support, a little more often? To say nothing of providing more consistent housekeeping money? But no, she was sure her husband’s conscience never bothered him about anything at all. Which was lucky for him. Not many people could say that.

  It was four o’clock, and just then there was a light tap on the door. Lexi immediately jumped up to answer it. It was Johnny and she hadn’t seen him all the week.

  He came in, and after politely enquiring as to Mrs. Martin’s health, immediately crouched on the floor with Lexi and the children. Cecilia smiled down at him. He was such a good-looking lad, so well-mannered, had such a way with him. And so easy to talk to …well, he met so many people on his after-school round on a Friday, collecting rents for his father. Cecilia well remembered the first time she had seen him – a dear little thing about eighteen months of age with a brother a year or two older. It had seemed a curious situation with no mother on the scene – though there had been an elderly lady in attendance, obviously to take care of the children.

  Mr McCann had moved here from the South, from London, someone said, and had moved into the big place in its own grounds, Grey Gables. Or just the Gables to locals. Before that, it had been unoccupied for a long time, prospective buyers apparently put off by the fact that the place was haunted – even though that was hardly unusual because Bath was full of ghosts. But the supernatural presence had obviously not concerned Reynard McCann at all, and he’d bought and restored Grey Gables to an elegant and comfortable home. It was on the edge of the Kensington area of the town and easy walking distance from the little rank of cottages the Martins had lived in at the time. It had been several months before the agent who’d usually collected the rents informed them that Mr McCann was now their new landlord.

  Cecilia made a little face to herself as she remembered how their rents had immediately shot up from a shilling and sixpence to two shillings a week which had meant more scraping and making-do for all the tenants. But at least she’d soon gained some occasional employment at the house when it became known that Mr McCann was looking for a needlewoman, as well as someone reliable to help out. Because of that, Cecilia had known the little boys from the beginning, and they’d usually been allowed to play out with the local children despite being so much posher than everyone else.

  Anna Hobbs had been the resident housekeeper for years now, as well as looking after the children – though with Cecilia frequently called upon to give a hand with the housework or to make or mend something or other. But that was all a very long time ago.

  The Martins, of course, were now in their new cottage.

  Lexi touched Johnny’s arm. ‘My Dada came home this week, Johnny,’

  Johnny, still helping Joe with his colouring, raised his eyes. ‘Did he? That was nice …has he gone away again already?’

  ‘No,’ Cecilia said firmly. ‘Lexi’s father has gone to the pub where I’m sure he’s entertaining everyone on his harmonica. But he’ll be back in time for some supper. Or when he feels like it,’ she added.

  ‘Oh, but he was playing to us this morning, wasn’t he, Mama?’ Lexi said quickly. ‘When you were cooking dinner? And we were all singing “Dada wouldn’t buy me a bow wow” and “Follow the yellow brick road” and “Cockles and mussels alive alive oh!” and Dada was d
ancing around the room and pulling us around with him and you were laughing so much you were crying, weren’t you, Mama? I saw the tears running down your face!’

  Oh, she’d been crying all right, Cecilia thought to herself. She’d cried for the past, and for the future … her own future, and the children’s futures. She’d wanted to hold the precious moment close to her and keep it there forever. She’d cried for the years that were slipping through her fingers, taking the children further and further away from her. And what would she do when they were all grown up, when there was no one left to care for, to worry about, and when there was no one to care about her, either? Cecilia should never expect anything from Albert, that was for sure.

  After Johnny had played a couple of games of Snakes and Ladders with the children, he said reluctantly, ‘I ought to go back. I’ve still got homework to do – and you know what my father is like on the subject of work!’

  ‘It’s lovely to see you, Johnny, and you’re always welcome, you know that,’ Cecilia said, shooting a glance at him and Lexi standing there together like two peas in a pod. Cecilia breathed an inward sigh. She was very aware of the close relationship which had built up between the two youngsters over the years, and one day Lexi was going to be hurt. It was inevitable. Johnny would soon be going away to college, and after that probably to some other academic institution. And that would be the end of it. Nothing lasts forever, and Johnny would be mixing with other friends, friends of a superior rank … more appropriate friends in his own class. Oil and water never mix, and Mr McCann had great ambitions for his sons.

  Lexi saw Johnny out, and they stood for a moment out of earshot of the others. Lexi looked up. ‘Guess what, Johnny?’ she whispered. ‘I’m going to have an audition at the Guildhall so that they can hear me sing my songs!’

  Johnny’s eyes widened. ‘Really, Lexi? That’s brilliant! But how did that happen?’

  Lexi went on to explain who’d come into the sweet shop and what had happened. ‘I’m so excited, Johnny,’ she said quietly, ‘but I haven’t told Mama yet because – well, I do feel a bit scared! Imagine me, Lexi Martin, maybe entertaining people at the Pump Room while they are taking tea! It’s like something out of a fairy tale!’

  Johnny grasped her hand. ‘There’s no need to be scared, Lexi! You’ve got a lovely voice, you can do it! The man – Mr. Larson – obviously thinks so or he wouldn’t have said what he did.’

  ‘I’ve just got to make sure I know every word of every song,’ Lexi said breathlessly. ‘Because if I’m accepted I will be paid a fee! I don’t know how much, but it will be something! Something to put in my shoe box with the wage Miss Lewis gives me. But to be paid to sing would be a dream come true, Johnny!’

  Now he was excited, too. ‘Well, on your first performance – guess who’ll be “taking tea” in the front?’ he said. Then – ‘But why haven’t you told your mother? Surely she’ll be pleased about it?’

  Lexi’s expression clouded. ‘I will tell her soon, of course. But the trouble is, Mama doesn’t like me talking about money – or rather, about earning money. She keeps saying I’m too young to even be thinking of it. But she’s wrong! I am determined to earn as much as I possibly can, as soon as I can Well, you know that already, Johnny. Miss Lewis asks me to stay on sometimes to help with the stock-taking, and I’m able to save all that because Mama won’t take any of it from me.’

  Lexi looked up, her face flushed. ‘One day I am going to buy us that big house, Johnny. A big house of our very own. And the only way that will happen is if I work for it! And that’s what I am going to do, in whatever way I can!’

  Johnny slipped his arm around Lexi’s waist. ‘I’m going to tell my father what you said, Lexi, and what you want to do, because you are someone after his own heart,’ Johnny said seriously. ‘That’s what he’s always telling Alfred and me – work hard for what you want, and don’t give up. Work is the way up and the way out, that’s what he’s always told us.’

  Lexi nodded happily, but a slight frown did crease her forehead for a second. Her biggest problem was going to be finding enough work to really make proper money, money enough to achieve her goal. And there was a long way to go. How did Mr McCann start, how did he climb that big ladder to success? And was Lexi Martin’s big idea just a youthful daydream?

  Then she shook herself angrily. She was not dreaming! She was planning! Planning the rest of her life!

  The April evening was cold and rather grey, its melancholy feel adding to Reynard McCann’s sombre mood. Last night had been one of the worst he’d had to endure. Thursday, the day of the week he dreaded, seemed to come around far more quickly than any other day, which of course was ridiculous. Thursday knew its place in the scheme of things.

  He sat back, thoughtfully fingering the silk tie Anna had given him at Christmas, congratulating himself on having employed his housekeeper all those years ago. She’d been a real find, running the house smoothly, while taking such good care of the boys – she took good care of him, too, Reynard admitted somewhat begrudgingly. Well, women were good at dealing with the minutiae of life.

  He glanced at the clock. It was 7.30, almost time for Johnny to return with the rents. Reynard frowned. He’d have to get someone else in to do the rounds when Johnny went away in September.

  He made his way downstairs to the kitchen. As usual, his evening meal had been served to him upstairs in the dining room at 6.30, and Anna, busy at the sink, glanced around as he came in to the kitchen.

  ‘I hope the apple crumble met with your approval, Mr McCann,’ she said lightly. Her employer’s downcast mood hadn’t escaped Anna’s notice earlier so she’d made the pudding extra sweet. Mr McCann liked his puddings.

  ‘It was very good, Anna, thank you,’ Reynard said, sitting down and resting his elbows on the table.

  With her back towards him as she washed the dishes, Anna thought the two of them were almost like a married couple … even though Reynard had never offered to wipe up. They were often in each other’s company, but with no real need for much conversation. They had a comfortable relationship, mutually respecting each other. She certainly had no reason to share the opinion of many in the town who seemed to loathe him. Well, that was money for you. Money was the root of all evil, breeding envy, jealousy, ruthlessness, cunning … all the worst human traits, in the wealthy and not so wealthy.

  Anna had to admit that she had always been curious about Mr McCann’s wife – of whom he never spoke. What sort of a woman must she have been? Submissive? Or occasionally combative? That thought made Anna smile. Who would dare challenge Reynard McCann! And what sort of husband had he been? Probably kind enough but not much more than that, despite siring two children. Surely he must sometimes think of his late wife though he’d been widowed for many years.

  Just after 8 o’clock the door opened and Johnny – with Lexi close behind him – returned with the rents. Lexi wanted to turn and run. She hadn’t expected to see Mr McCann sitting at the kitchen table. Johnny put the large bag down in front of his father.

  ‘It’s all there, Dad,’ he said. ‘Everyone answers the door – especially when they see Lexi there as well,’ he added, smiling.

  ‘Oh?’ Reynard cleared his throat. ‘Does Miss Martin usually go with you?’

  ‘Nearly always,’ Johnny said cheerfully. ‘We can do it quicker when two of us are knocking on doors – and tenants seem to like talking to Lexi.’

  ‘Um, well, good,’ Reynard said. ‘I’d like an hour with you now, in the study, Johnny, to go through a few things.’ But Johnny shook his head briefly.

  ‘Will tomorrow do instead, Dad?’ he said. ‘Lexi and I thought we’d go to the café for an orange squash when we’d done the rounds.’

  Reynard shrugged, though he was disappointed. He’d have liked Johnny’s company tonight, but what could he say? The boy had been at school all day, had collected all the rents … ‘Yes, of course. Tomorrow will do,’ Reynard said, standing up with his bag of cash.


  Presently, upstairs in his study, Reynard went over to the window and stared out moodily, unable to rid himself of a sense of impending doom. It wasn’t business – business was still good although who knew for how long if all the signs were to be believed? And there were more than just signs now.

  Soon, in order to defend Belgium and France, Britain would be at war with Germany.

  Reynard always kept himself abreast of the times, kept himself aware of significant changes in other parts of the world. It was no secret that Germany had been building great war ships, forcing Britain to respond by building her own, the latest being the King George V, alongside The Conqueror and The Iron Duke. Worse, the last time Reynard had gone to London he’d seen artillery batteries at the mouth of the Thames.

  And it wasn’t just that. The whole world was aware of Germany’s great Zeppelin airships, which they would use with no hesitation whatsoever. And people in the know said that Winston Churchill, the First Lord of the Admiralty, a man apparently hungry for war, was keen to arm aeroplanes in response. Reynard clenched and unclenched his hands. Aerial warfare? Unthinkable, surely!

  Feeling more troubled than ever, Reynard flopped down in his chair. Thinking of war and all its implications gave him a bad taste in the mouth. As had his last meeting with his stockbroker who’d told Reynard that the Germans had apparently called in all their overseas loans, and that it was inevitable that once war was declared the stock market would go haywire, with disastrous effects on shares.

  Yet even that fact didn’t seem as terrible as the one troubling Reynard the most … Alfred’s belligerent assertion, last time he’d been home, that he would have no hesitation in volunteering for service.

  Reynard stood up, pushing his chair back, and pursed his lips. He would be doing everything in his power to persuade his son against the follies of war. There was going to be very serious discussion about this before Alfred did something he would undoubtedly regret for the rest of his life.