‘So, are you all set? Everything organised?’ Tommy pulled Polly towards him before she had time to take off her coat. He felt the need to have her next to him for every moment possible before he had to leave.
Polly kissed him.
‘Well, according to the best sister-in-law anyone could ever hope to have – yes, I am.’
Polly had spent the last couple of hours with Bel, going over everything she needed to know about her big day with military precision. If anyone had asked who was the most nervous, Polly would have told them Bel. Hands down.
‘I will thank her profusely tomorrow,’ Tommy said. ‘She’s given me the best wedding present ever – time with you.’
Tommy reluctantly let Polly free.
She shrugged off her coat.
‘Is that supper I can smell?’ she said.
‘It certainly is.’ Tommy followed Polly into the kitchen, where he had set the table and even found a candle in one of the cupboards that he’d already lit. ‘Courtesy of the fish shop.’
‘Perfect,’ Polly said, sitting down at the table while Tommy jokingly put a tea towel across his arm and took out two plates with a fish lot on each.
They both chatted away, telling each other about what had occurred during their few hours apart.
Polly told Tommy how excited Lucille was about Santa’s arrival and how it would seem that Father Christmas had a great helper in the form of Charlotte, who had managed to get everything Bel had asked for. Even confetti – a rarity in these times of rationing.
‘The house was in utter chaos,’ Polly said. ‘Oh, and you should have seen Lucille’s little face when Joe hauled the Christmas tree through the front door. God knows how he managed to do it. I’ll bet you he’s suffering now.’
Tommy felt for Joe. He had not heard him complain once about what he called his ‘gammy’ leg, but he knew from his time on the ward that shrapnel injuries could leave a man in lifelong pain.
‘And yer ma?’
‘She seems really happy,’ Polly said. ‘Actually, the most relaxed I’ve ever seen her at Christmas. She keeps going on about how strange it’s going to be not to have to cook.’
‘What? Like she’s going to miss it?’
‘No, quite the reverse. More like she’s over the moon that she’s not.’
Polly had a drink of water from her tumbler as they both ate their fish and chips.
‘Arthur said you’d had a nice time. He looked shattered, though,’ she said.
‘We did. Went down by the docks. Saw some old faces there, which was nice. Just chatted really. He seems happy. Tired, but happy.’
Tommy had also met up with the Major in town to make arrangements about leaving on Boxing Day. A car had been ordered to pick him up from the Grand at midday. This was something Polly didn’t need to know this evening. He’d also asked the Major how the big powwow was going at the Grand, but he’d seemed a little evasive and was instead keen to hear about the wedding and to sort out a time to come to the flat in the morning to put on what he called his ‘clobber’. It had been decided that all the military men going to the wedding would wear their uniforms. Joe had told them about George’s reluctance to wear his regalia and had suggested that they all do the same as a show of solidarity.
‘So,’ Tommy asked, ‘has the very-soon-to-be Mrs Watts decided on her whereabouts this evening?’
They had chatted about whether or not they should keep with tradition and spend the night apart, which would, of course, also keep Agnes happy. It had been a difficult call, though, as they both felt resentful about having to give up their second-from-last night together.
‘Mmm,’ Polly said. ‘Well, I was chatting to Bel and she suggested that I sort of do both.’
Tommy raised his eyebrows.
‘She suggested I spend most of the night here, but come back home in the early hours and have another couple of hours’ sleep before I get up and, in her words, “begin the most memorable day of my life”.’
‘That sounds like a perfect solution to the dilemma,’ Tommy said. That was something else he must remember to thank Bel for.
Rosie was sitting up in bed.
In her hand was Peter’s note.
She read it over and over again until finally her eyelids got too heavy and sleep claimed her.
She slept all night with her husband’s words of love pressed to her chest.
Kate was sitting in the back pew at St John’s Church in Ashbrooke.
She was well wrapped up, with a thick woollen coat on, hat, scarf and gloves, but even so she was still cold.
Tonight, though, it was worth it. She loved midnight Mass. Loved hearing the Nativity readings.
She listened as the vicar read the words from the Gospel of Luke:
‘And she brought forth her firstborn, and wrapped him in swaddling clothes and laid him in a manger; because there was no room for them in the inn.’
But she knew she was going to enjoy the vicar’s sermon the most when he began with the words:
‘Hope. Faith. Peace. Joy. And Love.’ His voice loud and clear, but also soft and sincere. ‘These words,’ he said, ‘encapsulate the message of the Advent. They are the true meaning of Christmas. The story of the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ is really a story about these five wonders of the world.’
Kate nestled back in her pew, no longer feeling the cold.
At about one o’clock in the morning, when everyone was tucked up in bed fast asleep, or trying to stay awake for a sneak look at Santa, the first flurry of snow started to descend on the town.
It looked like Lucille’s and Bel’s wishes for a white Christmas and a white Christmas wedding were about to come true.