family over to their houses and they know that, but why they stop you visiting I don’t know, especially your mam.’
‘She . . . she’s ashamed of me,’ Frank said bitterly.
‘She shouldn’t be. You fought in the war. You have a good job, you work hard, and you don’t spend your money on drink or the horses or . . . other things. She’s ashamed of Nora but she shouldn’t tar you with the same brush.’
He sighed heavily. He just wished his mam took the same attitude as Sophie but he didn’t hold out much hope of her changing her mind at this stage. Where Nora was concerned she was pretty implacable.
‘What will you do on Christmas Day?’ Sophie asked.
‘Probably what I did last year. Walk down to the Pier Head and watch the shipping, that kills a good few hours, then call in somewhere on the way back for a pint or two. You’d be hard put to get any kind of a Christmas dinner out of Nellie. They all spend most of the day in the pub – Nora included.’
Sophie’s heart went out to him. What a miserable way to spend Christmas Day – a day when families all tried to spend time together. Surely Martha could show some Christian spirit on that one day in the year and have her eldest son for dinner? It wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she’d mention it to Lizzie, who seemed to have a bit of influence with Martha. But she would say nothing to Frank, she thought, in case his mam refused to relent. That would only make matters worse.
Chapter Eight
A S CHRISTMAS DREW NEARER the more excited both Billy and Bella became. They wrote more notes to Santa Claus and tried their best to improve their behaviour, which seemed infinitely harder for Billy than Bella, but Sophie had said firmly that Santa could see everything they did and made a note of it.
‘I’m beginning to think these little letters are a good idea, Sophie. That lad isn’t half the handful he usually is, he’s even polished his own boots,’ Lizzie had remarked after Frank had carried across the fort which was almost complete. You couldn’t have got anything better in the shops and it hadn’t cost her a penny so far, she’d thought. Jim had also admired it and had said later that he’d take Frank out for a drink as a sort of payment for he was flatly refusing to take any moneyfor his time and work. It was a pleasure to do it, he’d said and she could see that he meant it.
When he’d brought over the dolls’ house, in the first stages of its construction, Sophie had been delighted with it. ‘It’s going to be perfect, Frank. The size is just right; it will fit easily on top of the table so she can play with it to her heart’s content after meals.’ She’d examined the miniature table and chairs he’d made closely. ‘You really are very clever with wood, Frank. Look, Aunty Lizzie, the chairs even have little stretchers holding the legs together.’
Frank had smiled, basking in the unaccustomed attention and the praise being heaped upon him. ‘I can sit and do the little pieces in my break at work.’
‘Sophie’s found some lovely material for curtains and things and she’s going to decorate them with bits of lace and ribbon. She should have been a proper seamstress, she’s so good at sewing,’ Lizzie had impressed upon him, not wishing her niece’s talents to be ignored.
Martha had just tutted and raised her eyes when she’d first heard how Sophie had asked him to help out with the toys but now Lizzie gave her a running commentary on their progress. The fact that her son seemed to be welcome in Lizzie’s house and was refusing any form of payment had initially annoyed Martha but lately she’d begun to take more notice of her friend when she said that it really was such a terrible shame that a pleasant, well-mannered, generous fellow like Frank should have to put up with the likes of the Richardses, working away in that kitchen until all hours andthen having to keep the half-finished toys in the back yard and pray that Bertie
‘She . . . she’s ashamed of me,’ Frank said bitterly.
‘She shouldn’t be. You fought in the war. You have a good job, you work hard, and you don’t spend your money on drink or the horses or . . . other things. She’s ashamed of Nora but she shouldn’t tar you with the same brush.’
He sighed heavily. He just wished his mam took the same attitude as Sophie but he didn’t hold out much hope of her changing her mind at this stage. Where Nora was concerned she was pretty implacable.
‘What will you do on Christmas Day?’ Sophie asked.
‘Probably what I did last year. Walk down to the Pier Head and watch the shipping, that kills a good few hours, then call in somewhere on the way back for a pint or two. You’d be hard put to get any kind of a Christmas dinner out of Nellie. They all spend most of the day in the pub – Nora included.’
Sophie’s heart went out to him. What a miserable way to spend Christmas Day – a day when families all tried to spend time together. Surely Martha could show some Christian spirit on that one day in the year and have her eldest son for dinner? It wouldn’t hurt her. Maybe she’d mention it to Lizzie, who seemed to have a bit of influence with Martha. But she would say nothing to Frank, she thought, in case his mam refused to relent. That would only make matters worse.
Chapter Eight
A S CHRISTMAS DREW NEARER the more excited both Billy and Bella became. They wrote more notes to Santa Claus and tried their best to improve their behaviour, which seemed infinitely harder for Billy than Bella, but Sophie had said firmly that Santa could see everything they did and made a note of it.
‘I’m beginning to think these little letters are a good idea, Sophie. That lad isn’t half the handful he usually is, he’s even polished his own boots,’ Lizzie had remarked after Frank had carried across the fort which was almost complete. You couldn’t have got anything better in the shops and it hadn’t cost her a penny so far, she’d thought. Jim had also admired it and had said later that he’d take Frank out for a drink as a sort of payment for he was flatly refusing to take any moneyfor his time and work. It was a pleasure to do it, he’d said and she could see that he meant it.
When he’d brought over the dolls’ house, in the first stages of its construction, Sophie had been delighted with it. ‘It’s going to be perfect, Frank. The size is just right; it will fit easily on top of the table so she can play with it to her heart’s content after meals.’ She’d examined the miniature table and chairs he’d made closely. ‘You really are very clever with wood, Frank. Look, Aunty Lizzie, the chairs even have little stretchers holding the legs together.’
Frank had smiled, basking in the unaccustomed attention and the praise being heaped upon him. ‘I can sit and do the little pieces in my break at work.’
‘Sophie’s found some lovely material for curtains and things and she’s going to decorate them with bits of lace and ribbon. She should have been a proper seamstress, she’s so good at sewing,’ Lizzie had impressed upon him, not wishing her niece’s talents to be ignored.
Martha had just tutted and raised her eyes when she’d first heard how Sophie had asked him to help out with the toys but now Lizzie gave her a running commentary on their progress. The fact that her son seemed to be welcome in Lizzie’s house and was refusing any form of payment had initially annoyed Martha but lately she’d begun to take more notice of her friend when she said that it really was such a terrible shame that a pleasant, well-mannered, generous fellow like Frank should have to put up with the likes of the Richardses, working away in that kitchen until all hours andthen having to keep the half-finished toys in the back yard and pray that Bertie
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