Free Light A Penny Candle by Maeve Binchy

Two sharp trickles of tears began in her eyes. They were such a kind family, she would never be able to thank them. She must really try to explain to Mother in her next letter how kind they were. Please could she find words that wouldn’t irritate Mother and make Mother feel that she was being criticised.
    Then it was morning and there were screams of excitement as Aisling in pyjamas tore off the wrapping paper. As Elizabeth swung her legs out of bed, Aisling, her face flushed with happiness, came over and gave her a great hug. She forced herself to put her arms around Aisling too. Though this was a new experience and she was always nervous of something new. Up to now they had only linked arms when coming home from school. That had been the closest contact. But now it was a sea of affection and excitement and it almost drowned Elizabeth with its unfamiliarity.
    But in no time there were shouts and calls, and squeaks and hoots on a trumpet, and more shouts. …
    ‘Down here in two minutes or Christmas or no Christmas you’ll feel the palm of my hand!’
    It was still dark as they went up the hill to the church calling and wishing people Happy Christmas. Several people asked Elizabeth what she got in her stocking… and Doctor Lynch, Berna’s father, pinched her cheek and asked her was an Irish Christmas better than an English one. His wife pulled him away crossly.
    There were sausages and eggs for breakfast, paper table napkins on the table. Niamh sat up in her high chair and gurgled at them. There was more suppressed excitement since presents were going to be given afterwards beside the fire. The big things had come in the night but the individual ones would come now, and then the girls could go out in the square with their bicycles, Maureen could parade with her new jacket and matching beret, Eamonn with his football and boots, Donal with his scooter. Then it would be in again for the huge goose that was already cooking in the range.
    There were oohs and aahs over the presents, the pincushions, the bookmarks, the dish painted as an ashtray for Da, the necklace made of carefully threaded beads. But there was the greatest applause for the presents that Maureen gave. For Mam there was beautiful soap, and for Da there was a proper man’s scarf. For Aisling and Elizabeth big bangles with coloured glass in them; for Eamonn a big light for his bicycle; for Donal a funny furry hat, and even for the baby a rattle. She had given her elder brother two matching hair brushes like gentlemen used in picture books, and for Peggy she had a sparkling brooch.
    Maureen had been the last to do the distributing. She had asked if she could be and it seemed a glorious end to the present-giving. The air was so full of gratitude and re-examination of gifts that none of them except Elizabeth noted the anxious glances exchanged between Auntie Eileen and Uncle Sean. She couldn’t interpret them – it was as if they alone had seen some hidden disaster. Uncle Sean evidently had decided to let Auntie deal with it, whatever it was. Elizabeth’s face was reddening with anxiety, she knew it was.
    ‘Right everyone, clear up all the mess, paper into this box, string into that, and
don’t lose anything!
’ Eileen supervised a huge sweep on the room. ‘Now all of you out in the square, yes, you too, Sean, get a bit of exercise … and Donal, of course you can child … wrap up well. No, leave your furry hat here, that’s the boy.’
    In minutes she had the room cleared of people and presents. Elizabeth’s heart pounded because she knew something was very wrong. She went into the kitchen with Peggy and helped to fold the paper up into squares. Peggy kept up a monologue about how much there was to be done for the meal and how little help anyone gave… but she was only muttering, and didn’t expect any answer.
    The voices came clearly from the next room.
    ‘No, Maureen, sit down. Come on sit down. …’
    ‘I don’t know what you mean Ma, what is