Peggy shook her head. ‘It’ll be a honey bee, I expect,’ she murmured.
‘She’s mebbe turning into one o’ those men-haters, Da,’ Jack chipped in. ‘That’s why she’s never married.’
‘Kettle’s on ’boil.’ Peggy rose swiftly to her feet. ‘Who wants tea, and who wants cocoa?’
Peggy was the last to go up and sat pondering, gazing into the banked-up fire. Outside the wind blowing in from the sea began to whine and whistle and she glanced across at Robin, then got up and put her hand on the windowsill above him to check if there was a draught. Although there wasn’t, she went to fetch a thick towel from a drawer and tucked it along the bottom of the pane and drew the curtains closer.
His face was in calm and quiet repose, and as she gazed at him she felt the urge to weep. If what Jenny had told her was true, then by rights this child should be at the Deakins’ house; he was their flesh and blood, their only grandchild. And what would they make of him? If they took him would they treat him as badly as they’d treated their daughter? Why, she thought fiercely, they’d probably turn him away just as they’d turned her away all those years ago.
I’ll keep him safe here, she decided, making the commitment without any qualms or reservations, until such time as his mother is able to give him a proper home.
She smiled down at him as he uttered a deep sigh and tucked a hand beneath his cheek. I’ll love him as my own, just as I do ’other bairns, and I won’t make any discrimination between ’em and I won’t listen to any argument from our Jack either. Aaron won’t mind; I think he’s tekken a liking to the lad.
She moved away and turned down the lamp on the table, leaving only the flickering firelight from the range to give the room a soft warm glow.
‘Night night, Robin,’ she said softly as she lifted the latch of the staircase door and smiled as she heard him murmur in his sleep.
‘Mmm, Granny Peg.’
When Jenny arrived back in Hull she made a quick visit to Delia’s lodgings and discovered from Giles Dawson that she had gone across to the Maritime Hotel to rehearse the songs that she would sing over Christmas.
‘Could I discuss something with you, Miss Robinson?’ Giles asked. ‘Something that I think might add to the holiday atmosphere at the Maritime and even make it feel romantic – not that it is,’ he quickly assured her. ‘It’s a piece of theatre, that’s all. But not to tell Miss Delamour! I would like her to show surprise, not pretend to it.’
She’d arched her brows at this, but smiled when he explained and said yes, she agreed.
‘Are you staying here over Christmas, or going home?’ she asked, indicating the lodgings.
‘I’m staying here, but I’m taking a leaf out of Miss Delamour’s book and having Christmas Day lunch at the Maritime.’
‘Oh, really?’ she said. ‘Then why don’t you join us? A small group of friends and I are sharing a table with Miss Delamour. You are very welcome.’
He seemed startled for a moment, and then said, ‘That’s most thoughtful of you, but …’ He hesitated. ‘I wouldn’t want Miss Delamour to think I was taking undue advantage. We barely know each other.’
Again she lifted her eyebrows. ‘Therefore an opportunity to rectify that oversight? I will go across now and find out if she has any objection, and if she has,’ she said, as she swept out of the door, ‘I will of course tell you immediately.’
He gave a little chuckle. He liked this positive young woman who wasn’t in the least daunted by anyone, unlike the gentle Miss Delamour. Miss Robinson would be a force to be reckoned with. No one would take advantage of her.
Delia had run through several classical songs to decide which would be appropriate for the various days. Christmas Eve, something light, she thought; Christmas Day something a little richer in tone to begin with and ending on a celebratory note; and for Boxing Day, the final day of the holiday, music with a lilt that would send the guests home with a melody ringing in their ears to remind them of a happy time.
She guessed that many of the guests might be lonely, which was why they were there and not with their families; although for some, like Jenny, it might have been their choice, for whatever reason.
Loneliness she would know, for this would be the first Christmas she would not spend with her darling son, and she would have wept but for knowing that he was safe, well fed and with friends. He will miss me too, some of the time; she consoled herself with the thought, but she also knew that a child could be cheered by good company and she had known on meeting him that he wasn’t unhappy.
Jenny breezed into the dining room where Delia was fingering the keys of the piano. ‘How are you getting along?’ she asked. ‘Have you chosen the music?’
‘Y-yes, I think so. Will you listen to this? I thought perhaps for Christmas Eve.’
Delia struck a note on the keyboard. ‘I wish I could play,’ she murmured. ‘I think I have the ear, but not the time or the wherewithal to pay for lessons.’
She sang a verse of ‘Greensleeves’ and Jenny clapped approvingly, as did a young porter who was listening as he brought in a wood basket.
‘Lovely!’ Jenny said admiringly. ‘I can’t believe that I never heard you sing except at school or in church.’
Delia gave a wry laugh; there was a discernible note of bitterness. ‘I’ve said before, there wasn’t anything to sing about. I never told anyone, not even you, Jenny, just how miserable I was. I saw you with your lovely ma and your understanding father and wished with all my heart that I could be their daughter too.’
She stopped. Once again
