All the children had played with their new toys in the parlour whilst their grandmother prepared the Christmas feast, and Robin too had received additional presents as well as his new clothes: bonbons, puzzles and games. But it was what lay on the table that enraptured him now, for he had never seen anything like it in his life. An enormous roast goose resting on a large plate in the centre of the groaning white-clad table was decorated with holly, and clustered around it were chestnut stuffing balls and golden brown sausages that Molly said were made from their own pork, by which he supposed she meant pigs. Two large jugs of home-made wine and another of lemonade sat on a side dresser.
‘Oh, Granny Peg,’ he said, as she came to the table bearing a tray on which dishes of crisp roasted potatoes and more stuffing jostled with bowls of redcurrant and gooseberry jelly. ‘I want to stay here for ever!’
She set down the dishes and wiped her warm forehead. ‘Just for the food?’
‘No!’ he said. ‘Because I love you all.’
‘Robin loves me best,’ Molly declared. ‘Because I’m special!’
Robin turned to glance at Louisa, who shyly lowered her eyes but smiled as if she knew that he loved her best, for he had told her so.
‘Oh, well that’s a relief then.’ Peggy smiled. ‘I thought it was only because of my cooking.’
Aaron was sharpening a carving knife with a steel. He looked up and said, ‘But what would your ma say about you staying for ever, Robin? Would she mind?’
Robin emitted a deep sigh. ‘I don’t know. I wish she could have been here for Christmas Day.’
‘Mebbe we’ll ask her next year, eh?’ Peggy said, and then lifted her voice to where Jack could be heard bringing in another basket of logs for the parlour fire. ‘Come on, Jack. We’re ready to dish up. Where’s Susan?’ Her lips turned down as she spoke her daughter-in-law’s name.
‘I’m here.’ Susan came through the door into the kitchen. ‘Sorry, can I do anything?’
‘Yes, sprouts and turnip in ’bottom oven,’ Peggy said briskly. ‘Set them on ’table whilst I whisk ’gravy. Aaron better start carving ’goose. We don’t want everything getting cold. Emma, Rosie, sit down now please.’
There was a contented silence as everyone tucked in. Then Jack raised his glass of elderberry wine to his mother and said, ‘Thanks, Ma. You’ve worked wonders as usual.’ All the adults raised a glass, and the children waved their lemonade tumblers.
‘Thank you, Granny Peg,’ Robin said in a trembling voice. He suddenly felt sad and his eyes were moist. This was the first time in his life that he had been away from his mother at Christmas, and he was now more aware of her absence than he had been in ages because of seeing her so recently. He held aloft his lemonade and in a quavering voice said, ‘Happy Christmas, everyone.’
‘Happy Christmas to you too, Robin,’ Peggy said quietly, lifting her glass to him. ‘And here’s to your mother too.’
‘Whoever she is and wherever she is,’ Susan sniffed, and took a large gulp of wine that emptied half her glass.
‘Go easy with that, Susan,’ Jack told her. ‘Ma’s elderberry packs a punch.’
‘I know! I’ve had it before.’ Susan took a slice of goose. ‘Nice goose,’ she commented. ‘I suppose we’ll have to fatten one up for next year.’
Jack looked up. ‘Why? You’re not thinking o’ cooking Christmas dinner, are you?’ His gaze crossed to his mother, but her face was impassive and she lifted her shoulders slightly and went on eating as if she had no idea what anyone was talking about. ‘We always have Christmas here,’ he insisted. ‘It won’t be ’same if we don’t.’
‘Mebbe Susan wants to have it at your own house,’ Peggy said quietly, handing a dish of buttered carrots to Aaron. ‘Every woman likes to be in her own home at Christmas time, and you’ll be all set up by next year.’
‘Or we could go to my parents.’ Susan finished her wine and reached for the jug. ‘They’ve asked us plenty o’ times, but your Jack never wants to go.’
Jack ran his tongue around his teeth in search of a stray piece of sausage. He found it and swallowed it. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t.’
The following morning, relatives of Peggy’s and Aaron’s called. First came Peggy’s sisters and brothers with their husbands and wives, children and grandchildren, and they were served tea, coffee, beer and lemonade – of which Peggy had made gallons – and scones, hot out of the oven. No sooner had they left than Aaron’s unmarried sister, his three brothers and their wives and children, five granddaughters and three grandsons arrived, and they were served wine or beer, ginger ale and mince pies. Robin was in his element when he heard that some of the men were fishermen as Aaron used to be, and he told them that he would like to go out on the estuary as soon as he was old enough.
‘I go out fishing with my da,’ one of the grandsons boasted, ‘but I’m twelve, so I’ve finished school already. I don’t remember seeing you afore. Are you Uncle Jack’s lad?’
‘No.’ Robin shook his head. ‘I’m Robin Jackson. I’m just staying here for a bit.’
He was bewildered that anyone could have so many relations. He knew some of the boys from school but only Ben had become a friend. He had no idea how any of the other children were related to Jack’s daughters and he whispered to Louisa asking her if she knew them all and she laughed and said, yes, she did. They were all cousins.
After a while, he picked up his Dickens books, sidled out of the parlour where they were sitting and went into the kitchen to claim what he thought of
