Free Christmas Past by Glenice Crossland Page B

went into her arms, weeping for the first time since Tom’s departure,
inconsolable as she gave way to the pent-up feelings of the past months. She closed her eyes and for a moment felt like a child again, comforted as she once was by the special warmth and devotion
that only a mother and child can exchange. She realised at that moment that, much as she loved Gladys, it had been worth the long, uncomfortable journey to be here in her mother’s arms at
this time of grief.
    ‘Nay, bonny lass,’ said her mother wiping her own eyes, ‘you should be laughing to be home, not turning the tap on and almost wetting me through.’
    Mary smiled through her tears and said simply, ‘Tom’s dead.’
    ‘Oh, God, no,’ Mrs O’Connor said softly. ‘Oh, you poor lass, have a good cry then.’ And she gathered Mary into her arms again, rocking her right and left as though
soothing a child to sleep.
    ‘Do you want to talk aboot it?’ she asked after a while. ‘Tell us what happened. It’s better oot than in. Or shall we have a cup of tea and talk later?’
    ‘Yes, let’s do that,’ said Mary. ‘I feel better already - it was just seeing you again after all this time. Anyway, I’m dying for a drink. Where are the
others?’
    ‘Oor Norah’s at work – she’ll be home aboot six - an’ yer da’s on afternoon shift, finishes at ten. Eeh, I can’t wait to see his face when he knows
you’re home. I think he’s the one who has missed you the most. Blamed himself for you gooan’, said if he hadn’t spent so much on the beer we shouldn’t have been living
here amongst the grime and smoke and you wouldn’t have been ill and had to go convalescing halfway across the country. Well, I’ll say one thing: he’s a cheeanged man, determined
to shift us all out of here as soon as he’s able.’
    ‘Well, I’m glad some good came of my leaving.’
    ‘Why are you talking different, our Mary?’ asked Kathleen.
    ‘I’m not,’ said Mary, shocked.
    ‘Yes you are. Isn’t she, Ma?’
    ‘Well, I suppose she’s just picked up a different accent.’
    ‘I never noticed. It must have rubbed off on me from the doctor and Mrs Roberts. Oh, Ma, they are lovely – I’m ever so lucky to be living there. I wish you could visit the
house some day.’
    ‘That’ll be the day when I go anywhere further than the shops.’ Mrs O’Connor laughed. ‘Are those stovies ready yet, Kathleen? I bet our Mary’s starving.
I’d have done another panful if I’d known you were coming, lass, not that there’s many onions amongst the taties. Who’d have ever believed there could be a shortage of
onions?’
    ‘Perhaps this chicken will make them go further,’ said Mary, opening one of her bags and taking out a brown paper parcel. ‘It was only cooked last night, in fact the poor thing
was strutting around the garden yesterday afternoon.’
    ‘Eeh, lass, are you sure they can spare it? I mean with all the rationing and everything?’
    ‘I didn’t have chance to refuse. It was killed cleaned and cooked before I knew anything about it. I told you how good Mrs Roberts is.’
    ‘Look out, the camels are coming.’
    The door burst open and in rushed Jimmy and Michael, stopping dead in their tracks when they noticed Mary, to stand shyly in the doorway.
    ‘Well,’ she said, ‘aren’t you going to say hello or something?’
    ‘Hello,’ said Jimmy. ‘Have you come home?’
    ‘Well, what does it look like?’ said Kathleen.
    Mary laughed. ‘Oh, you haven’t half grown.’
    ‘’Ave I grown?’ asked Michael.
    ‘You certainly have. Why, I don’t think I’d have recognised the pair of you if I’d seen you outside. Where’s our Bill, then?’
    ‘Gone to the allotment.’
    ‘I didn’t know you had an allotment, Ma!’
    ‘It’s not ours, it belongs to the school, but anyone would think it belonged to our Bill, the way he’s taken over the running of it. Oh, well, let’s get out the stovies.
Have you cut the bread,