Page 35 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
‘Yes, it was very good,’ Timothy replies quietly.
Robin looks questioningly over at Carola.
‘Are you feeling quite well, Timothy?’ Carola comes over to him and touches his forehead. ‘He’s not running a fever, is he, Nanny?’
‘I’m sure he’s not,’ Nanny Avery says, looking concerned.
‘I’m fine.’ Timothy pushes his mother’s hand away.
‘Perhaps he’s a little overtired from his outing,’ Nanny Avery says. ‘Shall I take them both back to the nursery now?’
‘No! Not yet,’ Belle whines, gripping on to her father’s arm. ‘We’ve only just got here.’
‘But your parents’ guests will soon be arriving,’ Nanny Avery says kindly.
‘Nonsense, we still have plenty of time,’ Robin says, glancing at the mantelpiece clock. ‘It’s only a quarter to the hour. Our guests are not due until seven.’
How is it only a quarter to seven? I wonder. Hadn’t the clock struck that when we entered the room?
‘Now, Timothy, what is troubling you, child?’ Robin asks gently. ‘Please, tell your father.’
Timothy glances at Nanny Avery. She gives the tiniest shake of her head.
‘We saw a boy earlier,’ Timothy tells his father, ignoring his nanny. ‘Outside the house. He was selling mistletoe.’
‘We already have plenty of mistletoe,’ Carola says hurriedly, her eye on the clock again. ‘Look, our kissing ball is full of it.’ She holds her hand up to a ball of greenery hanging near the doorway covered in holly, ivy, herbs and mistletoe. ‘We do not require any more.’
‘Go on, Timothy,’ Robin encourages, realising his son is not finished.
It’s clear to me from watching Robin and Carola with their children that their father is clearly their favourite. Carola seems more concerned about her guests’ impending arrival than the troubles of her own flesh and blood.
‘The boy was very thin, Father,’ Timothy continues, ‘and he was very hungry. I gave him the rest of my bar of chocolate that Nanny bought for me at the theatre, but he was still hungry when he’d eaten it.’
Robin glances at Nanny Avery, whose usually pale cheeks have pinked a little. ‘It was a waif,’ she explains hurriedly. ‘He accosted us outside the house and tried to sell us mistletoe from our own gardens across the street.’
‘Mrs Bow gave him some food from the kitchen,’ Timothy tells his father.
‘Scraps that were to be thrown away,’ Nanny Avery explains, clearly worried by this tale her charge is telling her employers. ‘Nothing else.’
‘But he still looked so tired, so ill and so sad, Father,’ Timothy says, looking quite weary himself. His meeting with the boy outside has obviously affected him deeply. ‘He had no shoes. His feet were bare – and in the snow too.’
‘Timothy gave him his boots!’ Belle pipes up.
‘You did what?’ Carola cries, looking shocked. ‘You gave your good boots to a street urchin?’
‘I am very sorry.’ Nanny Avery looks equally as shocked. ‘I had no idea that particular incident had taken place.’
‘He did it when you were bathing me,’ Belle says. ‘He went down to the kitchen and gave them to the boy before he left the house.’
‘I am sorry if I did the wrong thing, Father.’ Tears form in Timothy’s eyes and slowly roll down his cheeks. ‘But I thought he needed them more than me.’
Robin, looking quite emotional himself, puts his arms around both his children and pulls them close.
‘We are very lucky,’ he tells them, his head level with theirs. ‘We live a privileged life, where we do not want for food or shelter or warmth. Some of our fellow Londoners are not so lucky as us. Let me tell you, Timothy, you did exactly what I would have done in the same circumstances. Caring for others when they are in need is never the wrong thing to do, and I am proud of what you did today for that boy. Never feel guilty for helping those less fortunate than yourself. It is to be applauded, not apologised for.’
There’s the sound of hands clapping together in the hall, and a handsome young man with wavy dark hair enters the room, still applauding.
‘Bravo! Bravo!’ he calls.
