sheep’s eyes at her sister and it would be like a knife through her heart.
A knock at the door on Christmas Eve revealed Laurence Bower carrying something wrapped in cheesecloth. As he stepped across the threshold, he said, ‘Mrs Sylvester, I hope you will accept this as a gesture of my gratitude for your kind invitation to spend tomorrow with you. It’s a turkey from my brother’s farm.’
‘A turkey! Oh, how wonderful, but you shouldn’t really, Mr Bower . . .’
‘Please call me Laurence.’
‘And I’m Mary,’ she said, taking the bundle from him.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of bringing the ingredients for the stuffing. I hope I’m not being too presumptuous.’
‘Of course not. We were planning beef, but I was so worried it wasn’t going to stretch to enough for all of us. This is a godsend. It really is. Thank you so much.’
‘Please don’t mention it. You won’t believe how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow when all I was facing was another lonely day.’
‘You’re most welcome.’ Mary laughed as she added, ‘And not just because of the turkey.’
Grace and her three granddaughters looked up in surprise when they saw whom Mary was ushering into the room. ‘Do sit down, Mr Bower.’
‘Laurence, please.’ He glanced at the two girls who were his employees and smiled. ‘Just for Christmas,’ he added with an impish smile.
‘Would you like a glass of sherry?’ Grace offered, deciding to play the gracious host. This man had been good to her granddaughters and she didn’t want to appear churlish.
‘No, no, I won’t tonight. I have to go back to the depot – just to make sure everything’s all right. It’s been a busy day.’
‘Hasn’t it just,’ Rose remarked with feeling. ‘My feet are killing me.’
‘How’s she doing?’ Grace asked Laurence, gesturing towards Rose.
‘Very well.’ Laurence couldn’t keep the surprise out of his tone and the whole family laughed. For a moment, the man was embarrassed; he hadn’t meant it to sound so obvious.
‘I’ve surprised myself,’ Rose said generously, ‘never mind anyone else. And that first night when my ticket takings didn’t tally, I thought I was going to be sacked before I’d hardly started.’
‘There’s not many it doesn’t happen to the first day or two, but you’ve been spot on ever since and I hear very good reports from your motorman.’
Jack Wainwright was the tram driver with whom Rose worked the most. He was a middle-aged, married man with two children. The older one – the boy – was already in the army, and Rose was acutely aware of the burden of anxiety Jack carried daily. His daughter was coming up to school-leaving age.
‘I’m dreading her having to go out into the big wide world,’ he confided in Rose. ‘She’s a shy little thing. I wish she had more of your spirit, Rose. Girls need it, especially now. Goodness knows what sort of a job they’ll find her.’
Over the next few weeks Rose and her motorman talked a lot during their relief times and became good friends. She knew she could rely on him whenever she needed help or guidance. Laurence Bower could not have teamed her with anyone better. Now a pink tinge of pleasure coloured her face to think that Jack had spoken so highly of her to the inspector.
Christmas Day was a merry affair for the family. Peggy had brought down a box of Christmas decorations from the attic cupboard behind Myrtle’s bed.
‘These are starting to look a bit sorry for themselves,’ she said, pulling out crumpled coloured paper chains. ‘But I suppose they’ll have to do for this year.’
‘I’ve made some paper hats out of newspaper,’ Myrtle said, holding up a Nelson-shaped triangular hat.
‘Is that my paper?’ Grace asked sharply.
‘It’s yesterday’s, Gran, don’t panic.’
‘Less of your cheek, miss. I might not have finished reading it.’
‘You read them from front to back every morning, Gran,’ Rose said, sticking up for her
A knock at the door on Christmas Eve revealed Laurence Bower carrying something wrapped in cheesecloth. As he stepped across the threshold, he said, ‘Mrs Sylvester, I hope you will accept this as a gesture of my gratitude for your kind invitation to spend tomorrow with you. It’s a turkey from my brother’s farm.’
‘A turkey! Oh, how wonderful, but you shouldn’t really, Mr Bower . . .’
‘Please call me Laurence.’
‘And I’m Mary,’ she said, taking the bundle from him.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of bringing the ingredients for the stuffing. I hope I’m not being too presumptuous.’
‘Of course not. We were planning beef, but I was so worried it wasn’t going to stretch to enough for all of us. This is a godsend. It really is. Thank you so much.’
‘Please don’t mention it. You won’t believe how much I’m looking forward to tomorrow when all I was facing was another lonely day.’
‘You’re most welcome.’ Mary laughed as she added, ‘And not just because of the turkey.’
Grace and her three granddaughters looked up in surprise when they saw whom Mary was ushering into the room. ‘Do sit down, Mr Bower.’
‘Laurence, please.’ He glanced at the two girls who were his employees and smiled. ‘Just for Christmas,’ he added with an impish smile.
‘Would you like a glass of sherry?’ Grace offered, deciding to play the gracious host. This man had been good to her granddaughters and she didn’t want to appear churlish.
‘No, no, I won’t tonight. I have to go back to the depot – just to make sure everything’s all right. It’s been a busy day.’
‘Hasn’t it just,’ Rose remarked with feeling. ‘My feet are killing me.’
‘How’s she doing?’ Grace asked Laurence, gesturing towards Rose.
‘Very well.’ Laurence couldn’t keep the surprise out of his tone and the whole family laughed. For a moment, the man was embarrassed; he hadn’t meant it to sound so obvious.
‘I’ve surprised myself,’ Rose said generously, ‘never mind anyone else. And that first night when my ticket takings didn’t tally, I thought I was going to be sacked before I’d hardly started.’
‘There’s not many it doesn’t happen to the first day or two, but you’ve been spot on ever since and I hear very good reports from your motorman.’
Jack Wainwright was the tram driver with whom Rose worked the most. He was a middle-aged, married man with two children. The older one – the boy – was already in the army, and Rose was acutely aware of the burden of anxiety Jack carried daily. His daughter was coming up to school-leaving age.
‘I’m dreading her having to go out into the big wide world,’ he confided in Rose. ‘She’s a shy little thing. I wish she had more of your spirit, Rose. Girls need it, especially now. Goodness knows what sort of a job they’ll find her.’
Over the next few weeks Rose and her motorman talked a lot during their relief times and became good friends. She knew she could rely on him whenever she needed help or guidance. Laurence Bower could not have teamed her with anyone better. Now a pink tinge of pleasure coloured her face to think that Jack had spoken so highly of her to the inspector.
Christmas Day was a merry affair for the family. Peggy had brought down a box of Christmas decorations from the attic cupboard behind Myrtle’s bed.
‘These are starting to look a bit sorry for themselves,’ she said, pulling out crumpled coloured paper chains. ‘But I suppose they’ll have to do for this year.’
‘I’ve made some paper hats out of newspaper,’ Myrtle said, holding up a Nelson-shaped triangular hat.
‘Is that my paper?’ Grace asked sharply.
‘It’s yesterday’s, Gran, don’t panic.’
‘Less of your cheek, miss. I might not have finished reading it.’
‘You read them from front to back every morning, Gran,’ Rose said, sticking up for her