Page 90 of It Always Snows on Mistletoe Square
I look questioningly at her, but she just smiles serenely.
‘So, are we going back now?’ Ben asks, looking around the room. ‘Is that it for 1984?’
‘No, we have much more to show you yet,’ Estelle says. ‘Both of you.’
‘Both of us?’ Ben looks surprised. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Come,’ Estelle says, moving towards the door. ‘We move on a few hours.’
Ben and I look at each other with puzzled expressions. But Estelle and Angela are already heading into the hall. As we begin to follow them, Ben grips my hand tightly.
‘Now, what I may have wrongly assumed,’ Estelle says, turning to us, ‘is when we’ve been talking about our mothers and their babies, that you’ve understood it’s our charity we’re referring to?’
Ben and I both nod.
‘Good. Your mother and father, Elle, came to us to volunteer just after she got pregnant with you. It was the first in their many endeavours to help others.’
‘We were very glad of their help,’ Angela says. ‘Word was getting around about what we were doing by this time, and we were getting an awful lot of mothers turning up on our doorstep for help.’
Estelle nods. ‘Some of the other houses and businesses were not too happy about what they consideredfallen womenwith theirbastard babiesliving in their fancy square.’
I flinch at Estelle’s words.
‘It’s not a pleasant description, I agree,’ Estelle says. ‘But I’m afraid that’s what they thought, even in the mid-eighties. They were far too quick to judge. These women weren’t easy, or slutty, or any other word used to describe them. Most had fallen on hard times due to their pregnancy. The young ones had often been thrown out of their parents’ houses; the older ones usually came from abusive relationships. We had all types of women, from all backgrounds. The one thing they had in common was they needed our help, and we gave it to them without question or judgement.’
‘We did,’ Angela says, nodding as she remembers. ‘It was like one big family here, especially at Christmastime. I loved it.’
‘We both did,’ Estelle says. ‘Neither Angela nor I ever had families of our own, so our mothers and babies were like our temporary family. Some stayed longer than others depending on their circumstances, and many kept in touch with us once they’d left.’
‘That’s really lovely,’ I say, incredibly touched by Estelle and Angela’s story. ‘You talk about my mother and father helping others, but that’s just what you were both doing here, keeping families together, by helping all those mothers hold on to their babies.’
Angela nods. ‘Just like I couldn’t.’
‘Oh, Angela. I didn’t mean it like that.’
‘No, I know you didn’t. It was all Estelle, really – she’s been helping others all her life. First her mother, then everyone she nursed in the war, and then Christian, and finally me. It was no surprise she turned over her house to women in need of help.’
‘I couldn’t have done it without you, Angela, as you well know.’ Estelle and Angela exchange a tender look. ‘And, it’s no more than my own mother would have done,’ Estelle continues. ‘Or many of my ancestors who lived here. There’s a wonderful tradition in the Christmas family for helping others.’
‘Yes, there is, isn’t there?’ I say, thinking about all the stories Estelle has told us. ‘You must be very proud of your family, Estelle.’
‘I am. And that is why I asked you to record their stories for me, so they will never be forgotten.’
‘Of course. It will be my honour to do so.’
Estelle nods. ‘Now, enough about me and Angela. We must return to you two. In a moment you will see both your mother and father, Elle. I’m warning you because this can sometimes be quite a shock for people. Everyone you’ve seen so far in my stories, other than Angela and myself, has been a stranger to you. This is your own flesh and blood.’
Somewhere in my mind I register the fact that Estelle has said ‘this can sometimes be quite a shock for people’.Has she done this sort of thing before?But any questioning thoughts I might have are quickly erased by her telling me I’m about to see my parents as their younger selves.
‘I’m ready,’ I say bravely, and I feel Ben squeeze my hand.
‘Here we go, then,’ Estelle says, looking up the carpeted staircase.
The 1984 Angela comes rushing down the stairs, she grabs the receiver of the green telephone that stands on a table in the hall, and then we watch her dial 999, which seems to take for ever, as the round plastic dial on the phone whirrs fully back round each time.
‘Hello, yes, ambulance, please,’ she says hurriedly.
She waits for a moment to be put through, and while she does she glances anxiously up the stairs.
