A Mistletoe Kiss (16 page)

‘I think she can manage now,' Hetty said cautiously. ‘I didn't know until this evening, but Miss Preece lives with her mother, so if there's need no doubt old Mrs Preece will alert a neighbour. But oh, Auntie, they've got a beautiful house on Everton Terrace, with a proper garden and everything; I wish you could see it! They've got a grand big kitchen, a walkin pantry and at least two other rooms downstairs, though I didn't go into either of them.'

‘My word, you're going up in the world,' Aunt Phoebe said. ‘And I gather from your note that they fed you?'

‘Yes, I shared their supper, which was shepherd's pie; it was delicious,' Hetty said. ‘Then I washed up the crocks for them and put everything away because Miss Preece was still too stiff to do much for herself. And then I helped them up the stairs to their bedrooms, the old lady first, and Miss Preece next …'

‘A bedroom each!' Aunt Phoebe exclaimed. ‘But couldn't her mam give her a hand? I know you're strong as an ox, queen, from helping on board the
Water Sprite
, but you won't come to your full strength for a few years yet.'

‘I don't think the old lady is nearly as strong as I am,' Hetty said. ‘And she really is old, Aunt Phoebe, much older than Gran, I should think. But anyway, as I was saying, I helped them both up the flight and then I came home. I say, Auntie, you should see their bedrooms! The old lady's room is as big as our kitchen and parlour put together, and there's proper carpet on the floor, ever so rich and soft. Miss Preece's room isn't
quite so large, but she has rugs scattered over polished boards instead of carpet, which I thought looked even nicer. And I should think there are at least two other bedrooms, though of course I didn't get to see them.'

Aunt Phoebe whistled softly. ‘It just goes to show that one half never knows how the other half lives. Carpet in a bedroom. Fancy that!' she said, rather enviously. She grinned at her niece. ‘But don't you go gettin' ideas above your station.'

Hetty smiled, then sighed. ‘I shan't,' she promised. ‘But oh, Aunt Phoebe, wouldn't it be nice to have a house like that!'

Miss Preece was working in her tiny vegetable patch at the back of the house. She had always enjoyed gardening, was good at it, and now she was digging up the tangle of pea haulms and adding them to the compost heap, so that they might rot down and be dug into the soil when winter came.

When the patch of soil which had contained the peas showed only rich black earth, Miss Preece limped over to the long row of runner beans and examined both the flaunting scarlet flowers and the tiny fuzzy bean-lets which would, she judged, be ready for picking in another couple of weeks. She had pulled a handful of radishes and was about to cut a lettuce, since they were having steak pie and salad for their supper, when the back door shot open and her mother's head appeared round it. Miss Preece could see the older woman beckoning but was reluctant to leave the garden, so she merely raised her voice to a shout. ‘I shan't be a minute, Mother. I just want to gather some tomatoes …'

Her mother's voice, sharpened by excitement, cut across her words. ‘Do hurry up, Agatha! The girl
will be here in ten or fifteen minutes and we should have supper on the table by the time she arrives. The pie's in the oven, but I can't wash the lettuce or prepare the radishes and tomatoes until you bring them in.'

Agatha Preece smiled to herself, reflecting that since Hetty had entered their lives her mother had become a changed person. And probably I've changed quite a lot, too, she thought, raising her voice to assure her mother that she would be indoors, complete with salad stuff, in less than five minutes. She began to select the ripest tomatoes, then went back to the house. When she entered the kitchen, she saw that her mother had spread the table with their very best linen cloth. It had been embroidered many years previously by her great-grandmother with a riot of sweet peas, roses and sprays of lavender. Usually, this precious lace-trimmed possession was only produced on Christmas Day, and Miss Preece, who had opened her mouth to comment on its presence, saw the warning glint in her mother's dark eyes and merely said approvingly: ‘How festive the table looks, Mother! I expect Hetty will enjoy the extra space of our kitchen after being cramped up in the
Water Sprite
for three whole weeks.' She smiled at her mother. ‘Mind you, that little cabin is the cosiest and best-planned place you could possibly imagine. Well, you saw for yourself how neat and homely the whole barge is.'

Old Mrs Preece sniffed, but could not quite hide the little smile which tugged at the corners of her mouth. As her daughter well knew, the old lady had been thrilled to receive the Heskeths' invitation and had
thoroughly enjoyed her visit when they had gone down to the wharf to see Hetty off.

Miss Preece had enjoyed her own first visit to the barge several weeks previously, even more than she had expected. She had taken a box of cream cakes, guessing that such things would be regarded as desirable but unnecessary luxuries by an elderly couple with little cash to spare, and had been delighted with the wonderful neatness and use of space on board the
Water Sprite
. In fact, she admired everything, and when she mentioned that her mother would be as intrigued and delighted with the canal barge as she was herself the invitation to ‘bring the old lady along the next time we're moored up here' was quickly extended and as quickly accepted.

‘Agatha Preece, will you stop dreaming! I've asked you twice if that's the last of the lettuces and you took as much notice of me as though I were the wind.'

‘Sorry, Mother. No, it's not the last of the lettuces. Would you like me to pull another? Only I thought, with the pie and the new potatoes …'

Her mother was at the sink, swishing the leaves about in a bowl of water, and after having thought for a moment she shook her head. ‘I only asked in case we needed more, but I'm sure this will be quite sufficient,' she said.

Miss Preece saw that her mother was pink-cheeked and smiling, and thought again how strange it was that the girl once described by her mother as a ‘scruffy street urchin' should have made such a difference to the lives of two supposedly sensible middle-class women.

Hetty had begun by simply turning up every now and then to make old Mrs Preece a cup of tea and ask if she could do any messages. But after a few weeks she had actually suggested that the old lady might accompany her on her short shopping expeditions. Agatha, who had said the same thing herself many times, was astonished, but pleased, when her mother had agreed with seeming reluctance to the scheme. She had warned Hetty that the older woman might change her mind after the shortest of walks, but Hetty said that if that happened she would either demand help from a passer-by or simply hail a taxi cab and bundle Mrs Preece into it.

‘But she's very independent, isn't she, Miss Preece?' she had said with a twinkle. ‘I don't imagine she'll want to admit defeat so easily.'

Miss Preece wasn't so sure, but in the event, Hetty was seen to be right. When she came knocking at the front door the old lady donned her coat and hat, picked up the ebony stick which she used out of doors, and set off with her young friend. She soon proved to be as keen to argue over prices as Hetty herself, and a good deal better than Miss Preece, who usually paid whatever sum was asked.

There had been other changes too; having had a taste of freedom on her shopping expeditions with Hetty, it seemed that Mrs Preece had decided she might venture as far as the nearest tea room when the weather was fine. She usually arranged to meet an old crony there, and the two elderly ladies would select a window table from which they could watch the passing scene.
They would order a pot of tea for two and either fancy cakes or scones, and would spend a pleasant hour gossiping or simply discussing the news of the day.

At first, Miss Preece was not told of these expeditions, learning of them through chance remarks let drop in the library, but after a while Mrs Preece started mentioning her outings, her tone half defiant and half triumphant. Her daughter congratulated her on her improved health, and old Mrs Preece actually admitted that she felt all the better for her little outings.

And her mother was not the only one to benefit from this unusual friendship, for Miss Preece congratulated herself that it was partly due to her help and influence that Hetty was now at the High School and studying for her School Certificate. Miss Preece had discovered, through the good offices of Hetty's teacher, that there were scholarships available for bright girls, and knowing of Hetty's ambition to become a librarian one day she had talked to her young friend, suggesting that she herself should coach Hetty for the scholarship examination. Hetty, having no desire to work in a factory or a shop and a very urgent desire to better herself, had agreed enthusiastically to the scheme. So she began to go to the library as soon as she left school during term time and spent most of the day there during the holidays, except for the three weeks each year that she spent with the Heskeths on board the
Water Sprite
.

At first, Miss Preece had almost resented Hetty's three-week absences in August, but soon realised that the girl – for she was a child no longer – actually
benefited from a complete break. She had headed the list of scholarship winners and was usually amongst the top three or four in her class, and, as Mrs Preece reminded her daughter, ‘all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy'.

Now, Miss Preece crossed to the oven and checked that their supper was perfectly cooked before turning off the gas and sliding the pie on to a pretty china plate. Hetty's made a difference to me, too, she thought, placing the pie in the centre of the table. Why, if it hadn't been for her chattering away and telling me the plot of the film at the picture house, I might never have discovered that Mr Gower enjoyed the cinema as much as I do myself; the reference librarian had paused to listen to Hetty's enthusiastic description of the film she had just seen and the day following had suggested that Miss Preece accompany him to a showing of
The Scarlet Pimpernel
that very evening.

Miss Preece had stared, feeling her face gradually growing hot with embarrassment. Mr Gower sometimes chatted to her, but he had never extended an invitation before, and clearly felt as uncomfortable as she did herself. She realised that it was up to her to be gracious, to put him at his ease. She had begun to say that it was most kind, but he had interrupted.

‘I wouldn't have asked, only it stars Leslie Howard and Merle Oberon,' Mr Gower had mumbled. ‘I heard you telling to the youngster how much you admired Mr Howard's acting … and I do so hate going to the cinema alone,' he had finished.

And all of a sudden, Miss Preece realised that she,
too, would like to go to the cinema with a friend, to share a small box of chocolates perhaps, and afterwards to discuss the film, for going alone made one feel friendless and awkward. So she had thanked Mr Gower for his offer and agreed with his suggestion that they should go straight to the Electric Palace on Heyworth Street after work the next day. ‘Mrs Simpson, our neighbour, always prepares our evening meal and I'll get Hetty to pop round to keep my mother company,' she had told her colleague, giving him her friendliest smile. ‘It will be a real treat; thank you very much, Mr Gower.'

Looking back, she remembered that their first trip to the cinema had been a little awkward, but others had followed and soon she and Mr Gower had become far more at ease with one another. She had always insisted on paying her share – going Dutch, they called it – and thought that Mr Gower had enjoyed these occasions as much as she had, though he never actually said so.

It was strange, however, that they had never become really friendly; Miss Preece supposed that it was because they were so different. In fact, she thought now that apart from their liking for the cinema, they had absolutely nothing in common. She loved visiting parks, going into the country of having a day by the sea, but most of all she loved to read because for her it was an escape, her limp and club foot no longer seeming important. But she knew that fiction, her first love, was regarded by Mr Gower as a frivolity. It was a shame, but Miss Preece knew she could never confide
in him about her secret ambition, which was one day to write a novel herself. When she got into bed at night, her mind presented her with plots, scenarios and characters, and tucked away at the very back of her wardrobe was a collection of exercise books in which she wrote down the thrilling adventures which obsessed her at any particular moment. She had never told anyone, not even Hetty, about those exercise books and had no intention that they should ever be seen by eyes other than her own, but it would have been nice to speak of her ambition to an intelligent man.

Publishing her scribbles, of course, she thought was quite impossible. Despite her job, she was sure that writers had to have special training or knowledge which she did not possess. No, the stories in the exercise books were simply her escape route from the dullness of her everyday life, and only as such did she value them. But she would have enjoyed discussing her favourite authors with Mr Gower whilst they drank their tea and ate their biscuits.

However, when Hetty returned … Miss Preece smiled to herself. Then they could discuss books till the cows came home!

Hetty came up from the wharf, went straight to her aunt's house to drop off her belongings, and then headed for Everton Terrace. She always had a heap of stories and experiences to tell the Preeces when she returned from her lovely three-week holiday on the canal, but on this occasion they would be rather different. For a start, she had arrived at the
Sprite
to find that Gareth
Evans had accepted an apprenticeship with an engineering firm, and in his place her grandparents had taken on a young lad, not yet thirteen, called Benny, who knew a little about engines. He was willing, anxious to please, and always the first ashore when they reached a lock, tugging his windlass out of his belt and beginning to wind the paddles open as soon as her grandfather put out the fenders and began to pole the barge into position.