Tom All Alone (8) (ii)

The dinner was the next most exciting part of Christmas for Tom. He loved all the rituals of it. Dad carving up the turkey and putting some on each plate in turn, plus the stuffing. Then mum and nan going around and putting vegetables on all of the plates. Roast potatoes, roast parsnips, carrots, peas, greens, broccoli, mashed swede, batter. Then the gravy poured over the top of it all, thick and brown as syrup. The salt and pepper going the round, and then the special pots of cranberry sauce and yellow mustard. Uncle Sid and dad had a leg each, the boys had the wings. When everyone was set, they crossed arms over the table and pulled the crackers - SNAP - and put on their coloured hats. Mum had to fold Tom's over at the back because it was too big and would come down over his face. They looked at the little toys - Tom got a red cellophane Magic Fish that curled up in his hand - and read the jokes. Uncle Sid chuckled at his - his face going even redder:

"What do Father Christmas's helpers learn at school? The elf-abet."

"Boom-boom!" said dad.

They started to tuck in.

"How are you doing at school, Russell?"

"Alright, Uncle Sid."

"Do you like it?"

"It's alright."

"What's your favourite subjects?"

"I like chemistry. But art's my best subject."

"He's good at drawing, aren't you, love," mum said. "He's drawn some nice pictures. He got a painting-by-numbers set for Christmas."

"Nice to know we've got some talent in the family," said Uncle Sid.

There was a short pause as they ate. Tom was waiting for something, now that it had been mentioned. He hoped they might forget it.

"Tom starts school next year," said dad.

Uncle Sid looked at Tom across the table - eyes wide behind his glasses.

"Do you really? My word. You're growing up so fast. Are you looking forward to it?"

Tom looked down at his plate and fiddled with a few peas - pushing them across some gravy mud into a pile of mash.

"I don't want to go to school."

Uncle Sid seemed shocked.

"Ooo, don't say that. You'll like it at school with all the other children. You'll make lots of new friends, and learn lots of new things. I used to love it at school when I went."

"Long time ago now, Sid," said nan.

"Happiest days of my life, they were."

"It was a nice school in the village," said nan.

"We've got a nice school," said mum. "St Mary's, just up the road. Not far. It's where Russell went."

"Did you like it there, Russell?"

"I did, Uncle Sid."

He looked at Tom again.

"There you are then, you see. It's nothing to worry about. I wish I was going to school again. I'd pay more attention this time."

They went silent again and carried on eating. Tom stared at the remains of the turkey, sitting in the middle of the table on the big plate. He could see the triangular hole at the back where the stuffing had been. He saw the bone.

"Mum... can I pull the wishbone?"

Mum reached over to the carcass and pulled the bone away, taking off the loose bits of meat.

"Can I pull it?" Russell said.

"You can pull it between you."

The boys hooked their little fingers around their ends of the bone. Tom knew exactly what he was going to wish for. They pulled, and the bone snapped clean.

"I won!" said Russell.

"Make a wish, then," said Uncle Sid. "But don't tell anyone, otherwise it won't come true."

Russell looked up and stared out of the window for a few moments, then he grinned and nodded his head.

Tom went back to eating his dinner - that stone falling into his stomach again, even though it was Christmas.

 

After they'd all finished and the dinner plates were cleared away, they sat in anticipation in the candle-glow of the room while nan went to fetch the pudding from the oven. Mum got a stack of tea plates out of the sideboard and put them on the table ready, plus the spoons. The jug of cream was there already.

"Not sure I've got room for much more," said Uncle Sid.

"It's home-made, Uncle Sid," said mum. "Mum did a special job this year. Lots of fruit and some brandy. We all gave it a stir."

"I'll try to find a corner for it, then," Uncle Sid grinned.

Nan made a big ceremony of bringing it in from the scullery.

"Ta-da!" she said, holding it high as she brought it to the table on its special Christmas plate. It looked as big as half a football, black and glistening with fruit, steam rising out of it from the oven. There was a small lit candle on the top and a sprig of holly wrapped around the stem. Nan placed it down in the centre of the table, where the turkey had been. Then came the bit that Tom always looked forward to the most.

"Ready, Dan?" nan said.

He came over from the sideboard with a small glass of whisky. Mum went and switched the light off as nan took the candle and holly off the top of the pudding. She held the candle there, waiting.

"Go on."

Dad tipped the glass of whisky over the top of the pudding and at the same instant nan put the candle to it. The blue glow of flame spread all over the top of the pudding and down the sides, following the track of the whisky to the plate. It always made Tom think about the flame on the gas cooker when mum put it on to boil a kettle, or when she lit the wick on the pariffin heater in the back kitchen. Everyone looked at it, entranced - the glow flickering in their eyes, in the glasses on the table.

"Lovely!" said Uncle Sid.

The flame finally flickered out. Mum switched the light on again and nan began to dish dollops of the pudding onto the plates - digging into it hard and quickly, like it was a live thing and she wanted to catch it before it escaped from the table.

"You'll need to be careful because there's a sixpence in there somewhere. Don't swallow it or break your teeth."

Mum poured cream over every piece and handed them around the table, Uncle Sid taking the smallest. And then they were all quiet for a few moments as they tucked into the pudding - the only sounds the clacking of the spoons against the plates, and the gentle chewing noises.

"This is delicious, mum," said mum.

"I'll say," said Uncle Sid. "You can taste that brandy."

Tom went through each mouthful carefully, hoping upon hope that his teeth would finally touch against something hard and round. Perhaps it was still in the pudding that was left over - almost half of it still on the plate in front of them, steaming from the inside like a half-collapsed volcano. Perhaps he could ask for another small piece, if nan would let him.

He spooned the last mouthful up from his plate and bit into it carefully. But it was all soft.

"Oh... Tom's the lucky one!" said nan then, looking across.

He looked at her, puzzled. But she was staring down at his plate. He looked himself. There, in the puddle of muddy cream that he had left over, a small silver curved shape was protruding. He reached down and picked it up, licking it all over until it was clean and shining in his fingers.

"Well done, Tom!" said Uncle Sid. "Now you must make a wish."

He gleamed at Uncle Sid's smiling face.

"But remember... don't tell us what it is or it won't come true."

Tom made his wish. Then he clutched the magic coin tightly in his palm as he spooned up the remainder of the cream.

"There," said nan. "Another one over. Now, let's have a glass of port before we do the washing up."

 

* * *

 

Uncle Sid stayed one more night after all and went home on the day after Boxing Day. They all went out to the pavement to see him off - sitting there in his car with the special lever instead of the steering wheel.

"I've had such a lovely time," he said, through his window. "Thanks, Lou, and everybody."

"We'll see you in the new year, Uncle Sid," mum said. "We'll pop down one Saturday."

"That'll be lovely," he said. "I'll have the kettle on for you."

He revved the funny-sounding engine, then looked over his shoulder quickly as he pulled out and put-put-puttered up the empty road to the end, waving his hand quickly out of the window before winding it up.

"Bless him," said nan as they all went back in. "He did enjoy himself, too. He's so slow now, though."

 

It was just into the first week of the new year, with everything getting back to normal, that there was a ring at the doorbell one morning. Tom sat on the landing at the top of the stairs playing with his Thunderbird toy, but he peeped down and saw nan open the door. There was a man outside wearing a crash helmet.

"Telegram," he heard the man say.

Nan stood there and opened it. Then she put her hand up to her mouth and slumped, like someone had let the air out of her.

"Who is it, mum?" mum called from the back kitchen. Then she came out and stood looking down at nan - still standing there. Tom saw that she was crying now.

"Sid's gone," she said.

And mum stepped over Tom and rushed down the stairs to join her.

(continued) https://www.abctales.com/story/harryc/tom-all-alone-9-i