A Christmas Night to Remember(48)
‘I walked by this way a little while ago—my Billy still has to have his morning constitutional whether it’s Christmas Day or not—and I saw you then. It’s a mite cold to be sitting for long, isn’t it, dear?’ The bright brown eyes were penetrating, but kind. ‘You all right? You look all done in.’
Melody tried to pull herself together. Now she had come back to the real world she realised she was absolutely frozen to the core. Her reply of, ‘I’m fine, thank you’, was somewhat spoilt by the convulsive shiver which accompanied it.
It seemed to have decided her Good Samaritan. The little woman clucked her tongue before saying, ‘I always have a cup of tea once I get in, and my place is just across there, dear. Why don’t you come in and warm up before you get yourself home?’
‘No—no, thank you.’ Melody forced a smile as she stood up, only to find she was as stiff as a board. ‘You’re very kind but I’m perfectly all right. I—I was just sitting awhile.’
‘You don’t look all right, if you don’t mind me saying so.’ Obviously plain speaking was the order of the day. ‘You’re the colour of the snow. Look, my name’s Mabel, and I’m not doing anything until my son comes to collect me and Billy later this morning for Christmas lunch at his place. Lovely house he’s got—all modern and open-plan, I think you call it. Wouldn’t do for me—too much like living in a barn—but it suits him and his wife and the kiddies and that’s all that matters. Anyway, I’ve got an hour or two to kill, and I could do with the company, to tell you the truth. I don’t usually mind being on my own—my Billy’s good company, bless him—but Christmas Day is different, isn’t it? I miss my Arthur then. He died a couple of years ago and I still can’t get used to it. Fifty years we were married, and childhood sweethearts. That still happened in my day. Not like now.’ This was followed by a loud sniff which eloquently depicted Mabel’s opinion of present-day romance.
Melody moistened her lips, ready to refuse the invitation when she caught the fleeting expression in Mabel’s eyes. The loneliness connected with something deep inside her, and instead she found herself saying, ‘If it wouldn’t be any bother I’d love a cup of tea. I didn’t realise how cold I’d got.’
‘That’s right, dear.’ Mabel was aglow, standing up and yanking Billy—who had settled himself down for a nap—to his feet. ‘Nothing like a cup of tea for sorting things out—that’s what I always say. The cup that cheers—that’s what my Arthur said.’
Mabel’s house turned out to be a well-kept terraced property with an air of faded grandeur and photographs of family adorning every surface in the neat little kitchen-diner Melody was shown into. It was as warm as toast, an Aga having pride of place in the old-fashioned fireplace, and two-cushioned rocking chairs complemented the scrubbed kitchen table and four chairs tucked in one corner. There was a serenity to the house, a quietness that spoke of tranquillity rather than emptiness, which was immensely comforting. Melody had a strange sense of coming home.
‘Sit yourself down, lovey.’ Mabel pointed to one of the rocking chairs as she spoke. Billy immediately curled up in his basket in front of the range and shut his eyes, as though to say, duties performed; do not disturb.
‘Thank you.’ Melody sat, somewhat gingerly, and wondered how on earth she had ended up in a total stranger’s house on Christmas Day morning, when Zeke was fast asleep in their suite at the hotel. At least she hoped he was asleep. Yes, he would be, she reassured herself quickly. And even if he wasn’t it was too late to worry about it. She was here now.
Mabel bustled about making the tea, and when the little woman warmed the teapot and then added two teaspoonfuls of tea from a caddy before pouring hot water into the pot Melody wasn’t surprised. Teabags, somehow, weren’t Mabel’s style.
‘Here you are, dear.’ Mabel passed her a cup of tea with a thick slice of homemade shortbread in the saucer. ‘Now, why, if you don’t mind me asking, was a bonny-looking girl like you sitting all by herself on Christmas morning, looking as though she’d lost a pound and found a penny?’
Melody had to smile. No one could accuse Mabel of beating about the bush. She took a sip of the scalding hot tea and then set the cup in its bone china saucer. ‘I don’t know what to do,’ she said simply. ‘Or which way to turn.’
Mabel deposited her dumpy little body in the other rocking chair and smiled placidly. ‘A trouble shared is a trouble halved—that’s what I always say. So why don’t you tell me all about it?’ She took a bite of her own shortbread and indicated for Melody to try hers. ‘Get yourself on the other side of that, lovey, and tell me what’s wrong.’