Free A Little Bit on the Side by John W O' Sullivan Page A

simpered.
    But when they turned to The Chandler’s Wife it was not so well received. It came with a repeating ‘knock, knock, knock’ in the last line of each increasingly suggestive chorus, which was taken up enthusiastically by the younger men who sang, clapped or hammered out the phrase on the bar or table top. But a few of the older men frowned their disapproval, and many of the women sat po-faced, for as midnight was fast approaching the audience was looking for a little nostalgia, and the singers scarcely had time to finish before some of the older folk were calling for Jimmy and The Miner’s Dream of Home .
    Jimmy’s rich baritone came as a surprise to Jack, and he listened with admiration to a song the verse of which meant nothing to him until Jim got to the end, when every voice in the bar joined with him in with the chorus:
    ‘I saw the old homestead and faces I love,
    I saw England’s valleys and dells,
    And I listened with joy as I did when a boy....’
    Only then did Jack recognise it as a favourite from the family Christmas gatherings of his early childhood, and he too joined in until he stalled on the final lines, when his eyes misted over and a lump rose in his throat, as it always did on such nostalgic occasions despite his best endeavours.
    ‘Oh my God,’ whispered Kate who knew him of old. ‘Don’t you dare let me down and have a cry. Think of your image, taxman.’
    A few moments later, at a word from Albert, the bustle and chatter subsided, and they stood together in silence till the last stroke of the chimes at midnight faded away in the dark tower of St Matthew’s. But the New Year’s greetings and Auld Lang Syne that followed did not, as Jack had expected, mark an end to the evening’s proceedings.
    ‘Come on Ada, my love, your turn to lead the way this year. Get your coat on, Tom will be waiting,’ called Albert from behind the bar. At this Jack looked at Jimmy with surprise, but Jimmy simply motioned to him to stay silent and wait.
    With their coats on, and with three or four picking up lanterns as they went, the whole of the Shagger’s company, lead by Ada on Albert’s arm, moved out of the bar and into the night, and the bar stood empty apart from the four incomers.
    ‘Give them a few more minutes, and then follow me,’ said Jimmy, and leaving a note and a handful of coins on the bar, he stepped behind it to pour them each another fortifying drink, before they too moved out into the darkness.
    As they drew away from the lights of the Shagger towards the church, they could feel the gentle touch of snowflakes on their faces and the softness of settled snow beneath their feet, and Jack and Kate wondered where on earth they were being led, and why. Then, not many yards ahead of them, they saw the darker bulk of St Matthew’s looming against the gloom of the sky, and the gentle illumination of lanterns in the churchyard.
    Heeding Jimmy’s caution to move quietly, they stole towards the low wall of the churchyard, and strained their eyes to follow the faint illumination of the lamps carried by the six or seven clusters of villagers as they separated and moved between the tombstones in the darkness, while those without any family connection (surprisingly few) stood quietly just inside the lych-gate.
    Focussing on Ada, who was there with Albert, her two sons and four or five others they took to be family, they saw the group stop, and stand in silence for a few moments at what Jimmy said was old Tom’s grave, before Ted produced a bottle from his coat pocket, unscrewed the cap, and held it out to fill the little shot glasses the others had been carrying.
    As they stood together, ready with glasses charged, Ted splashed a few drops from the bottle over the grave, said a few words which the listeners could not hear clearly, and then as one, they drank their New Year’s toast to the old boy.
    At the other graves the same quiet ritual had taken place, but as the groups turned and came