29. Christmas Eve

Christmas Eve dawned bright and frosty. As Ada’s working day began, she paused briefly on her way into the hospital to gaze up at the mountains. The light was so crisp and clear she could see the snowy peaks of some of the northern fells etched sharply against the sparkling blue sky. Her thoughts immediately flew to Grasmere and Keswick, to the fells where she had walked hand in hand with Jamie, whom she missed so much it sometimes physically hurt her.

‘Darling, darling Jamie,’ she sighed.

His letters were no longer quite as regular as they had been when he was first called up. He had mentioned in a recent letter that all correspondence had been heavily censored now that his unit was ‘moving in deeper’. It certainly didn’t take a genius to interpret what he meant. His clearing station was obviously moving closer to enemy fire, the thought of which terrified Ada.

‘He’s a medic,’ everybody said to comfort her. ‘He’ll be a lot safer than the men fighting on the Front Line.’

Unfortunately, Ada knew quite the opposite: just because Jamie was a doctor didn’t mean that he was safe; she had read too many newspaper articles about first-aid ships and casualty hospitals being bombed and destroyed during an attack. There were some days when she felt paralysed with fear and apprehension, and the only person she could share her worries with was her close friend, Sister Ann.

‘I feel so guilty making a fuss,’ she blurted out one day as they shared a pot of tea in the Matron’s office. ‘Diana has lost her fiancé, Zelda is a young widow, and Dora’s son is dead. I should thank my lucky stars that Jamie is alive, at least as far as I know, and that I still receive letters from him.’

Sister Ann laid a gentle hand on Ada’s arm. ‘Child, how can you not worry?’ she reasoned. ‘There are thousands of women all over the country enduring the same pain as you.’

Ada swiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I feel like I’ve waited all my life for a man like Jamie, and just when I’ve found him, he’s been snatched away from me.’ She gave a shuddering sigh. ‘I know it’s what he wants: he was miserable and ashamed when he felt he wasn’t doing his bit. I really have no right to complain,’ she finished determinedly.

Seeing Ada struggling to regain her composure, Sister Ann tactfully changed the subject. ‘Tell me, how is Zelda progressing?’

‘She’s a wonderful mother,’ Ada replied, as she pocketed her damp handkerchief. ‘Totally besotted by little Constanza, who is thriving. I have difficulty keeping Zelda out of her garden shed,’ she smiled. ‘Now that she’s back on her feet, she’s busy once more mixing her healing salves and poultices.’

‘She’s a wonder with those herbs,’ Matron replied. ‘Diana seems to be thriving too. Whenever I see her, she has George in one arm and Teddy in the other.’

‘Is there any news from Father Ben about George’s adoption?’ Ada enquired.

Sister Ann shook her head. ‘Nothing, and to be honest it’s becoming a source of concern to all of us. Such a lovely little boy whom we can’t seem to place.’

‘I worry about him being parted from Teddy,’ Ada admitted. ‘The pair of them are like two peas in a pod. They sleep side by side, roll around on the nursery mat together. Diana occasionally manages to feed them together, one on the bottle and one on the breast. It’s quite an achievement,’ she chuckled.

‘Diana has been wonderful with George,’ Matron acknowledged.

‘I think taking responsibility for both boys has occupied all of her waking moments and saved her sanity in the process,’ Ada said. ‘I was worried sick she would go to pieces, but she put her baby’s needs before her own and now she’s taken on George too.’

‘We must leave it in God’s hands and trust that he’ll find the right parents for George.’ Matron held Ada’s gaze. ‘I would hate to send the little boy to an orphanage.’

Back in the Home the atmosphere was charged with excitement. Little colourful bootees and baby socks decorated the black-marble fireplace surround, and the home-made red, green and blue crêpe paper decorations that the residents had made were draped across the ceilings of the sitting room and dining room. Boughs of holly heavy with red berries were artfully arranged behind mirrors and pictures along with bunches of mistletoe that dangled over doorways.

‘Any excuse to get a kiss,’ Gracie joked, as she posed under a bunch of mistletoe with her full red lips pursed for a kiss. ‘Though to be honest I’m in no mood for kissing fellas,’ she admitted. Supporting her huge tummy with her hands, she gave a weary sigh. ‘Surely it can’t be long now: I’m well past my due date.’ Eyeing Diana’s slender figure, she added enviously, ‘You’re lucky: at least you’re the other side of childbirth, I’ve got it all to come.’

‘I would have preferred it if my labour hadn’t been brought on by grief and heartache,’ Diana sadly reminded her.

Gracie blushed with shame. ‘Sorry, Di, when will I ever learn to keep my big mouth shut?’

Eager to make amends for her slip-up, Gracie struggled to her feet. ‘Fancy a cuppa?’

‘Not right now, thanks,’ Diana replied. ‘I need to check up on the boys in the nursery then I want to put the last of my presents under the Christmas tree in the entrance hall.’

‘Me too,’ Gracie replied. ‘I’ll meet you there later.’

Diana found her boys rolling around on the soft playmat in the nursery. Dora, who had been keeping an eye on the babies, smiled when she saw her. ‘They’ve been having a little boxing match, grabbing each other by the nose and ears. Teddy even had hold of George’s hair a few minutes ago, little rascals,’ Dora said fondly.

Diana gazed down at them: Teddy tall and pale with serious blue eyes; George dark and smiling, with a strong, muscular little body. She had given birth to one child, but she had enough love in her heart for the two of them. George and Teddy, Teddy and George: she couldn’t say one name without immediately thinking of the other.

‘Are you okay to look after them for a little bit longer, Dora?’ Diana asked. ‘I want to put the last of my gifts under the tree.’

‘Fine, lovie, off you pop,’ Dora answered cheerfully.

‘I’ll be back in time to feed them,’ Diana said over her shoulder, as she hurried out of the nursery.

With one eye on the gurgling babies wriggling on the playmat, Dora continued changing the cotton sheets that lined the babies’ white canvas cots. With Percy gone and Jack posted overseas, she had been dreading Christmas: the thought of just her and her husband on their own all day with only their sad thoughts for company was simply unbearable. Matron’s generous invitation to spend the day at Mary Vale had cheered both of them up considerably. Dora would happily lend a hand in the kitchen or on the wards if necessary, while she knew that her husband would be content to chat to the residents and to the Arkwright men, who had also been invited to the Home for Christmas dinner.

Relieved that she was on her own, Dora let her tears fall unchecked. Christmas was a terrible time of the year when you were mourning the loss of a loved one. No matter how hard she tried to stop the flow of memories, they flooded back, bringing with them wave after wave of grief. How could she ever forget the sight of little Percy, his big brown eyes huge with wonder on the Christmas morning when he had found a red-and-yellow scooter propped up beside his bed?

‘Santa’s been,’ he said in an awed voice. ‘Mummy, look what he gave me for me.’

He and Jack, her sweet twin boys, had rushed into the garden in their bare feet to see if Rudolph had eaten the carrot they had left out for him on Christmas Eve. When they saw all that remained of the carrot, their eyes had sparkled with excitement. It had unquestionably been one of the happiest days of her life: her boys small enough for her to watch over and protect, young enough to show their unconditional love, and innocent enough to believe in Father Christmas.

George’s loud scream when Teddy once more gripped his nose distracted Dora from her sad thoughts. Picking up a wailing George, she held him close to her heart. ‘What would I do without my babies to care for?’ she asked George, who immediately stopped crying at the sound of her soothing voice. ‘I don’t think I could have lived through these past few months without you, young man,’ she added, as she planted a kiss on the top of his silky dark curls. ‘Come on,’ she said, and walked into the little kitchen attached to the nursery. ‘Let’s warm up your bottle – then it’s nap time for you, young George.’

Gracie and Diana arranged their few presents under the tree alongside Zelda’s interesting packages, which were wrapped in brown paper and tied with pieces of old ribbon she had ironed and reused.

‘Whatever’s in there smells gorgeous,’ Gracie said as she sniffed a package with her name on it. ‘I can’t wait to open it.’

‘I haven’t got much for Zelda, or for anybody, in fact,’ Diana murmured guiltily. ‘I’ve given Zelda one of my silk scarfs – I thought she might use it to tie her hair back when she’s gardening – and I managed to find a little rattle for Constanza.’

‘I bought her some bath salts,’ Gracie giggled. ‘To ease her back ache after mixing her brews all day.’

‘It’s the thought that counts more than anything,’ Diana insisted. ‘When I think of the Christmases we celebrated at home before the war … always lots of guests for dinner, chilled champagne in front of the fire, while we unwrapped our presents and the food!’ she exclaimed. ‘I can’t believe we ate so much in those days.’

‘Roast turkey, sausages wrapped in bacon, stuffing and potatoes, Christmas pud, mince pies, creamy Lancashire cheese, port and bottles of ale,’ Gracie said dreamily. ‘How did we put all that lot away?’

‘It’s so different these days,’ Diana sighed. ‘But I’m sure Sister Mary Paul will work a miracle or two.’

Gracie gave a confidential wink. ‘I saw Frank Arkwright walking into the kitchen with a brace of pheasants the other day,’ she said.

Diana grinned. ‘He’s a changed man these days, isn’t he? I never imagined him to be a natural with babies.’

Gracie burst out laughing. ‘One particular baby,’ she pointed out. ‘Little Constanza, he’s besotted with her.’

‘For good reason: he did bring her into the world,’ Diana laughed.

‘Who would think big, gruff Frank, who could barely crack a smile, is more than happy to push a pram around the garden?’

Diana gave her a deep meaningful look. ‘Who would ever have imagined that shy, retiring Zelda would be the one to bring out the softer side of Frank?’

Gracie looked thoughtful too. ‘Do you think it might be serious? You know, like he’s falling for her?’

Diana didn’t hesitate for a moment. ‘I think it’s very serious,’ she answered honestly. ‘The only thing is,’ she added as her voice dropped to a whisper, ‘I don’t think either of them knows it yet.’

It grew dark early on Christmas Eve, but the chapel was lit with dozens of candles and fragrant with the perfume of blooms grown in the convent’s greenhouse. Sister Theresa had polished the pews until they glowed and she greeted the residents as they trooped in.

‘Welcome, welcome,’ she cried as she rushed to greet Zelda, Diana, Gracie, Ada and Dora. ‘Take a seat – the service will start soon.’

Grateful to take the weight off her feet, Gracie sat down in one of the narrow pews, which just about accommodated her tummy.

‘Are you comfortable?’ Ada enquired.

‘Just,’ Gracie grinned. ‘It’s nice that you managed to get here, Ada, and Dora too.’

‘We’ll take it in turns to nip back to the ward,’ Ada replied in a whisper. ‘It’s quiet at the moment – let’s hope it stays that way. I’ve never yet got through a carol service without having to rush away to deliver a baby.’

Everybody fell silent when the nuns, led by the Reverend Mother, walked into the chapel in solemn procession; with their long dark veils sweeping the aisle behind them, they took their places and the ceremony began. Ada could barely take her eyes off Sister Theresa, whose face glowed with joy as she approached the high altar. From her radiant expression, nobody could doubt that her days in the convent had transformed her: from a scrap of a girl Shirley had blossomed into a young woman with a true vocation.

After singing the opening carol, ‘Oh, Come All Ye Faithful’, the chorus of which the nuns sang in Latin, Father Ben began the Mass. During the service, as the congregation stood up, knelt down, then stood up again, Gracie began to feel hot and slightly sick. Maybe it was the heat of the candles combined with the smell of incense that filled the chapel, or maybe she had eaten too much of Sister Mary Paul’s delicious rabbit-and-leek pie? Whatever the reason, Gracie wasn’t quite able to keep up with all the bobbing up and down, so she stayed seated until communion, when she felt she ought to kneel. Struggling awkwardly, she manoeuvred her enormous tummy into position; then, just as Father Ben consecrated the host and the communion bell rang out, she felt an acute stabbing pain in the lower part of her back.

Hearing a suppressed gasp, Ada quickly turned towards Gracie, who was now sitting doubled over clutching her belly. Ada discreetly waited a few minutes until the consecration was over, then she took hold of Gracie by the elbow and gently helped her to her feet.

‘Can you walk?’ she whispered.

Gracie nodded. ‘Yes, but slowly, and not far,’ she said, as she bit back the pain that was gripping her tummy.

‘Hold on to me,’ Ada whispered as she gently ushered Gracie out of the chapel.

Wide-eyed, Zelda, Diana and Dora grinned at one another. ‘Perfect timing,’ Dora chuckled. ‘Gracie’s baby will have the same birthday as Jesus!’