Tom All Alone (8) (i)

Continuing my novel based on my childhood in South London in the 1960s.

Christmas Day.

 

Nan's scullery downstairs sweated and heaved with the heat and the smells of the dinner. The steam and bubble of saucepans, the spit of fat in the turkey-stuffed oven, the hiss of the gas hob, the fuss and fiddle of fingers and elbows as the two women peeled, sliced, prodded, salted and chopped - mum's raw wet fingers reaching every so often for the tumbler of gin and bitter on the window sill, the yellow smile of the lemon slice floating in among the ice cubes. Nan wiped her glasses on the corner of her apron.

"You can't be optimistic with a misty optic."

In nan's downstairs parlour, dad pushed the armchairs back against the wall and moved the big folding table into the centre. He took her best white table cloth from the cabinet and spread it out, setting down the cutlery and placing a cracker by each spoon. He put the silver candlesticks there, too, with fresh red candles in each, ready to light. The wireless was on in the background, with a choir singing carols.

When this was done, he went back upstairs to the living room, where the boys were playing, and poured himself a glass of beer from one of the bottles left over from the night before. He took a cigar from the packet on the mantelpiece and lit it from the fire with a spill. Then he stood with his back to the flames, glass in hand, and watched the boys - Russell bolting some panels together from his Meccano set, Tom setting his soldiers up in the turrets of his new toy castle.

A ring at the doorbell sent him back down. Tom got up and looked out of the window, and could see the light blue three-wheeler car parked by the kerb outside. He knew it was Uncle Sid's because he'd seen it when they went to visit him. Dad had told him it was a special car - that Uncle Sid needed a special car because he had problems with his legs. Uncle Sid wasn't their real uncle, like Uncle Len wasn't. He was nan's older brother, so he was mum's uncle. Mum said that made him Tom and Russell's great uncle. That had piqued Tom's interest. Those confusing words again.

"If he's a great uncle, does that mean he's better than the other ones?"

Mum had thought that was funny.

"No. Though he is my favourite uncle," she'd said.

She then tried to explain it to him, but he couldn't get it. He did like Uncle Sid, though - even though he was older than all his other uncles, and didn't have a wife.

"Auntie Estelle passed away. Like your other nan and your grandads have. She's no longer with us."

"Has she gone to Heaven?"

"Yes, that's right. She's gone to Heaven. They're all in Heaven."

"Will I be in Heaven one day, too."

"Yes. Everyone goes to Heaven. You have to behave yourself, though, and live a good life and be kind to others. And it won't be for a long time yet."

"When will it be?"

"Years and years. After you've grown up, and when you get old."

"When I pass away?"

"Yes. That's a long, long time."

"Will you cry when I go to Heaven?"

"No, love. Because I'll be there waiting for you."

"Will you be there already?"

"I expect so, love. That's usually how it happens."

"When are you going to Heaven then?"

"Not for years and years yet, I hope. You do ask some questions."

"I don't want you to go to Heaven yet."

"I won't. So don't worry about it."

But he did worry about it. It was always something he thought about. What would he do if mum went to Heaven and left them on their own? It was always there in his mind. He wasn't sure what he thought about Heaven. Why couldn't he see the people who went there any more? Was it because God lived in Heaven, and you couldn't see God either? That was another thing he didn't understand. He asked nan about it because she went to church, which was where people who believed in God went - even though mum and dad didn't go, and they said they believed in God.

"Does God live in the church, nan?"

"God lives in Heaven, duck."

"But I thought you said you went to church to speak to him."

"I do. I say prayers to him there, just the same as I say my prayers before I go to bed at night. Just as you should, too."

"But if he's not there, how can he hear you?"

"He is there, duck. God's everywhere. He sees everything you do. That's why you have to behave yourself, because God's watching what you do."

"So why can't I see him?"

"Because he's invisible. I told you."

It didn't make any sense. He didn't think he liked the idea of being watched all the time like that.

"Does he watch me when I go to the toilet, then?"

She shook her head, chuckling like mum had done.

"You do ask some questions."

"But does he?"

"I expect he waits outside the door until you've finished."

 

Uncle Sid didn't come upstairs because of his legs, and that was why they were having dinner downstairs. So they had to go down to see him - and it was almost dinner time, anyway.

He was sitting at the table already, near the wireless, and dad was pouring him a glass of Guinness. His walking sticks were resting against the back of his chair.

"Hello, boys," he said cheerily as they went in. "Are you having a lovely Christmas?"

"Yes thanks, Uncle Sid."

"Give Uncle Sid a kiss, boys," dad said.

They did. His skin was very warm.

"Lovely to see you both. Did you get some nice things from Father Christmas?"

They told him some of the things they'd got while he sat and smilingly listened - the light catching on his round-framed glasses. He was almost bald, but had a ring of short white hair going around his head, like Friar Tuck had in the Robin Hood programme on telly that Tom liked. His face was very red - redder than the Father Christmas they'd visited - but it was just as chubby and cheerful-looking. He was very smartly-dressed in a tweed suit, and with a white shirt and tie. He had a handkerchief in his top jacket pocket which he took out every now and then and dabbed around his mouth and across his forehead.

He leaned down to his side and reached under the table, then came up with something.

"Father Christmas left me some things last night, too. He said they were for you and he'd forgotten to deliver them, so he asked me to bring them as he knew I was coming here today."

He had two small parcels in his hand, done up in gold paper with holly leaves and berries on it and silver ribbon tied around. He gave one each to Tom and Russell. They were delighted.

"What do you say to Uncle Sid?" dad said.

"Thank you, Uncle Sid," they chimed.

"That's alright," he chuckled. "I told Father Christmas I'd make sure you got them."

As the boys ripped into the parcels, Uncle Sid took a sup of his Guinness and gave a relaxing sigh.

"Lovely," he said.

"Good health," dad said, sitting down next to him.

Uncle Sid laughed. "Some hopes of that, Dan. Still here, though. Same to you."

They touched glasses together and both drank.

"What were the roads like?" dad said.

"Quiet. As you'd expect today. Just as well, too. Not sure how much longer I'll be able to manage the car."

"You staying the night?"

"Just the night, yes. Lou's got the put-you-up ready for me."

"Good. We'll have a good time. Got plenty of Guinness in. It's good for you, they say."

Uncle Sid chuckled again. "Better drink plenty of it, then, eh?"

"Why not."

They drank again. They looked at the boys. The presents were open now.

"Wow!" Tom whooped.

He held up a model of Thunderbird 2 - his favourite.

"Lucky boy," said dad. "You've done well today, haven't you."

He rolled the model out of the box and pushed the pod out. Inside the pod was Thunderbird 4 - the submarine.

"Wow wow wow!"

It had a friction motor that buzzed when he pushed it along the carpet.

Russell had a book. Journey to the Centre of the Earth by Jules Verne.

"That's great, Uncle Sid. Thank you."

"They've made a film of it," dad said. "James Mason's in it. They'll have it on the telly soon and you can watch it."

The boys sat with their presents and the men chatted as they drank. Dad lit another cigar and offered one to Uncle Sid.

"I shouldn't. But hang it all."

He took one and dad lit it for him, using the match to light the candles on the table, too.

"If you didn't do all the things you weren't supposed to, you wouldn't have a life," dad said.

"I guess you're right there, Dan."

They puffed and drank while the boys still sat with their presents - Russell turning the pages of his book, Tom rev-rev-revving his toy across the carpet. Mum and nan came through - nan wiping her glasses on her apron again. They both went over to Uncle Sid and gave him a kiss on his cheek. Mum had her drink with her. Nan went to the sideboard and poured herself a glass of port.

"It's all on," said mum. "Won't be long now. Hope you've brought your appetite, Uncle Sid."

"I'll manage something," he said, chuckling.

"You're looking well," mum said.

"Well... I'm still here, anyway," he said. "They ain't put me down yet."

(continued) https://www.abctales.com/story/harryc/tom-all-alone-8-ii