managed a box of handkerchiefs or a pair of gloves. Mummy sent a check when she remembered, but Christmas was certainly a no-nonsense affair with us. This time I had actually brought a small gift for Queenie, but it occurred to me now that I should give my grandfather something too, and also my mother. The problem was that Lady Hawse-Gorzley hadn’t reimbursed me for my train fare yet and I was seriously lacking in funds. I didn’t think that my mother would be satisfied with Ashes of Roses perfume from Woolworths instead of Worth. I’d love to have given Granddad a really nice present—a cashmere scarf or a warm pullover. It felt so frustrating to have no money. For a second I wondered if I could ask Lady H-G for an advance, but my pride wouldn’t let me. At least I’d look in the village shop for small tokens and hope for a miracle.
I ate a hearty breakfast and set off for the village, crunching down the driveway, where the snow had frozen hard all night, and stood admiring the village scene—small boys with sleds, a snowman on the village green, villagers bundled against the cold staggering home with baskets laden with good things and mysteriously wrapped packages. Suddenly it was impossible not to be caught up in the spirit of Christmas.
At the police station I was met by a worried-looking young constable. “Sorry I can’t help you, miss,” he said, “but our telephone isn’t working either. I don’t know what can be wrong. It’s not as if there was a storm last night, was there? Maybe it’s the cold what’s done it.”
I looked around the village shop, but there was nothing that was remotely suitable for Christmas presents, the most exotic items being long woolen underwear and white handkerchiefs. But my spirits were raised when I realized that someone would now have to go into town to deliver Lady H-G’s message.
“Their telephone’s not working either?” she said, running a hand through her hair. “What a nuisance. There is always a last-minute hitch, isn’t there? I don’t suppose you’d be an angel and go into town for me, would you? I absolutely have to have those geese and I know he’ll sell out if I wait any longer.”
“Of course I’ll go into town for you,” I said, delighted that I would now get a chance to shop.
The car was summoned and I rode in solitary splendor into the little market town of Newton Abbott. If the village had depicted the rural Christmas scene, this was straight out of Dickens. Little shops with lead-paned bow windows, a cheery pub, children singing carols on every street corner and people staggering under loads of provisions and presents. I delivered my message to Mr. Skaggs, who looked pleased with himself.
“I told her ladyship, didn’t I?” he said in his thick Devon burr. “I said she’d be needing the geese as well. Right, my lovey, you tell her that I’ll be delivering them bright and early on Christmas morning. She don’t need to worry.”
“Lady Hawse-Gorzley tried to telephone you,” I said, “but it seems that the line is down or something. Even the police station telephone was not working.”
“Ah, well, they wouldn’t be, would they?” the butcher said, giving me a knowing look. “Fire last night at the exchange. Didn’t you folks hear about it? Terrible it were. Seems there was something wrong with the wiring and one of the poor telephone operators plugged in her headphones and she were electrocuted right away. Then the whole thing caught on fire. Took the fire brigade hours to put it out. Such a terrible shame so near to Christmas.”
“So the girl was killed?” I asked, swallowing back my rising fear.
He nodded. “Not exactly a girl anymore. Poor old Gladys Tripp. She’s been operator at the local exchange for years. Bit of a nosy parker if you ask me, always listening in on people’s calls, but a good enough soul. Didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“Did she live out toward Tiddleton-under-Lovey?” I
I ate a hearty breakfast and set off for the village, crunching down the driveway, where the snow had frozen hard all night, and stood admiring the village scene—small boys with sleds, a snowman on the village green, villagers bundled against the cold staggering home with baskets laden with good things and mysteriously wrapped packages. Suddenly it was impossible not to be caught up in the spirit of Christmas.
At the police station I was met by a worried-looking young constable. “Sorry I can’t help you, miss,” he said, “but our telephone isn’t working either. I don’t know what can be wrong. It’s not as if there was a storm last night, was there? Maybe it’s the cold what’s done it.”
I looked around the village shop, but there was nothing that was remotely suitable for Christmas presents, the most exotic items being long woolen underwear and white handkerchiefs. But my spirits were raised when I realized that someone would now have to go into town to deliver Lady H-G’s message.
“Their telephone’s not working either?” she said, running a hand through her hair. “What a nuisance. There is always a last-minute hitch, isn’t there? I don’t suppose you’d be an angel and go into town for me, would you? I absolutely have to have those geese and I know he’ll sell out if I wait any longer.”
“Of course I’ll go into town for you,” I said, delighted that I would now get a chance to shop.
The car was summoned and I rode in solitary splendor into the little market town of Newton Abbott. If the village had depicted the rural Christmas scene, this was straight out of Dickens. Little shops with lead-paned bow windows, a cheery pub, children singing carols on every street corner and people staggering under loads of provisions and presents. I delivered my message to Mr. Skaggs, who looked pleased with himself.
“I told her ladyship, didn’t I?” he said in his thick Devon burr. “I said she’d be needing the geese as well. Right, my lovey, you tell her that I’ll be delivering them bright and early on Christmas morning. She don’t need to worry.”
“Lady Hawse-Gorzley tried to telephone you,” I said, “but it seems that the line is down or something. Even the police station telephone was not working.”
“Ah, well, they wouldn’t be, would they?” the butcher said, giving me a knowing look. “Fire last night at the exchange. Didn’t you folks hear about it? Terrible it were. Seems there was something wrong with the wiring and one of the poor telephone operators plugged in her headphones and she were electrocuted right away. Then the whole thing caught on fire. Took the fire brigade hours to put it out. Such a terrible shame so near to Christmas.”
“So the girl was killed?” I asked, swallowing back my rising fear.
He nodded. “Not exactly a girl anymore. Poor old Gladys Tripp. She’s been operator at the local exchange for years. Bit of a nosy parker if you ask me, always listening in on people’s calls, but a good enough soul. Didn’t deserve to die like that.”
“Did she live out toward Tiddleton-under-Lovey?” I
Similar Books
