Across the Mersey - Annie Groves [81]
‘Alan’s sooo flattering about how happy our marriage has made him. He never stops telling me how much he loves me. He’s always begging me to promise that I’ll never stop loving him. He says that he couldn’t bear it if that happened. But of course it won’t. Nothing would ever make me stop loving him or make me leave him,’ Bella smiled indulgently. ‘Men can be such silly boys at times.’
* * *
They had been late leaving for the Christmas Eve midnight service because the twins had insisted on putting out mince pies and milk for Father Christmas, and when they had got there the church had been so full that they had only just managed to squeeze in.
Every pew contained families with someone in uniform, or so it seemed to Jean, tall broad-shouldered young men standing with their parents and their siblings. The fate of a nation rested on those shoulders and their bearing revealed their awareness of that responsibility.
Tears pricked at her eyes when the congregation sang the familiar Christmas hymns, words written to be sung with joy and awe at the coming of a Saviour. It was to these young men in their new uniforms that the role of saviours would fall, and Jean prayed that they would not have to bear the cross of pain and death that the child whose birth they were celebrating now had borne.
Luke was one of these young men. She turned towards Sam. He had lost some of his pride and stature these last weeks. He carried with him the shadow of his own pain even though he refused to admit that he felt any.
The vicar spoke of hardship and endurance, and the triumph of right over wrong, good over evil, love over hatred. There were special prayers for those who must fight, and prayers too for those men sailing convoys across the Atlantic, through its storms and the relentless pursuit of Hitler’s U-boats to bring safely into port much-needed supplies.
There could, of course, be no joyous pealing of the church bells to ring out across the cold clear night air symbolically clamouring the news of the gift of a special birth, because church bells could be rung now only in emergencies.
After the service families and neighbours lingered outside the church, stamping their feet against the sharp cold, speaking in low voices of this, the first Christmas of a new war.
How many more would there be before it ended, Jean wondered starkly as they made their way home, and how many families would be changed for ever by it? It was bad enough that Luke wasn’t here, but so very much worse because of the way he and Sam had parted. It would have made such a difference if she had been able to turn to Sam and share her fears for Luke with him, just as they had always shared their fears for their children.
This bitterness with Sam had put a barrier between them that separated them, now making it impossible for her to reach out to him for comfort as she so longed to be able to do, and to offer him comfort in return.
The kitchen welcomed them with the smell of cooking and warmth, and before Jean could stop the twins were reaching for the mince pies.
‘It’s too late to go eating pastry now,’ Jean warned them, pushing the tray out of the way. ‘You’ll end up with indigestion. Besides, if you eat them now we won’t have enough for tomorrow.’
‘Aww, Mum, we’re hungry,’ Lou protested.
Jean sighed. ‘Very well then, you can have those we put out for Father Christmas, but don’t blame me if you do get indigestion.’
As the twins hurried into the parlour she said to Grace, ‘I just hope this goose is going to cook properly. It only just fits in the oven. Now what is it?’ she demanded when the twins came rushing back into the kitchen.
‘The mince pies have gone,’ said Lou.
‘And the milk,’ said Sasha.
Grace looked at her sisters, knowing how much they enjoyed playing tricks. ‘You mean they have now that you two have had them,’ she suggested wryly.
‘No, Grace, they’ve really gone, honestly. Come and look.