Free A Sixpenny Christmas by Katie Flynn

sheer idea of laying her hands on a steak was so absurd that Ellen had laughed and that, it seemed, had really put the cat among the pigeons. Since her pregnancy, the threats she had made to kill him as he slept if harmcame to her or her child had kept him at bay until the beef pie incident. Then he had forgotten caution, picked up the delicious pie and hurled it through the open kitchen door into the yard. Ellen’s cry of distress as she ran outside had only served to increase his rage. He had come at her like an enormous bull charging a very small matador, but Ellen did not think he had actually touched her because she had skidded on the gravy from the pie and ended up on all fours. Sam had tripped over her and gone head first into the privy door, knocking himself out cold. Scrambling to her feet, Ellen had returned to the house for just long enough to pick up the Gladstone bag she had already packed in readiness for her time in hospital. She had cast one disgusted glance at her husband and another sad one at her lovely pie. Then she had lit out for the nearest tram stop, arriving at the hospital just as her pains had started and the first faint rumblings of thunder could be heard on the icy air.
    So now, she looked curiously at her neighbours. She could not for the life of her remember whether they had been around at the time when the pie – and Sam – had bitten the dust, but remembering that her husband had just returned from work she supposed that their men, too, had probably just arrived in their kitchens, where the women would be far too busy with the preparation of the evening meal to take notice of the angry mutterings from next door. After all, why should they? On that particular occasion at least Sam had not reached the noisy stage, so that the only unusual sounds the neighbours would have heard would have been the pie crashing to earth in the yard, her own muffled grunt of pain as she fell and the thump of Sam’s head as it hit the privy door.
    Reassured, Ellen was able to thank both women most sincerely for the shop pie and the jacket potatoes they had baked in her oven so that she could feed Sam when he came in without effort. She was equally grateful for the fact that they jumped to their feet the moment the hooter went, indicating that it was leaving-off time, exclaiming that they would be round first thing in the morning to give a hand both with the new baby and with any messages she might need.
    ‘You are good, both of you,’ Ellen said gratefully. ‘When I come home first I were a bit scared ’cos I don’t know much about new babies, but now you may be sure I’ll come runnin’ if things get on top of me.’
    Both women laughed and Mrs Rathbone went over to where the baby lay and spoke admiringly. ‘Ain’t she sweet? I well remember how scared I was when I brung my Cyril home, and I’d no need to be afraid ’cos me mum lived with us in them days and knew everything there was to know about babies. So if you need a hand just stick your head out the back door and holler.’
    Ellen promised to do so and bade her new friends goodbye. Then she set the table, put the pie in the oven to warm and awaited Sam’s arrival, determined to greet him with a cheerful smile and tell him how good their neighbours were. By the time she heard his step in the yard she was ready; the baby, having been fed, slept soundly, and all was in readiness for her husband’s return.
    Sam came in and crossed the kitchen in a couple of strides. ‘Good to have you back, you and the little ’un,’ he said gruffly. He thrust a newspaper-wrapped parcel into her hands. ‘Brung you a bit of a present,’ he muttered.‘I meant to give it to you t’other night when I come hospital visiting only I were late and the bastards wouldn’t let me in. So you might as well have it now.’ He hesitated for a moment, then spoke so low that she had to bend forward to catch the words. ‘I bin talkin’ to the fellers at work and they say a