A Perfect Christmas

Chapter THIRTEEN


It was the muted shrilling of the telephone down in the hall that jolted Cait out of sleep at just after eight that morning. She had slept badly again and now she had overslept. She was too late to get herself ready and off to work and be there for eight-thirty. This on top of the day she’d taken off without permission would surely result in her dismissal. At this moment, though, she felt so low, she didn’t actually care whether she lost her job or not, regardless of the consequences. She could no longer hear the telephone ringing so she turned over and closed her eyes.

An urgent rapping on her bedroom door had her sitting bolt upright and staring over in fright. She was alone in the house so who could possibly be knocking on it? Her answer came in the form of Agnes Dalby, who came bustling in to stand at the bottom of her bed. She had a look of concern on her wrinkled face.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Thomas, but I was worried about you not coming downstairs this morning at your usual time, being’s it’s a work day. I was worried you might be ill.’ She scrutinised Cait’s face. ‘You don’t look good, Miss Thomas, not good at all. Shall I call for . . .’

Cait exclaimed, ‘You frightened the life out of me! You’re not supposed to be here. What are you doing?’

Agnes wanted to tell this angry young woman that she herself couldn’t get off to sleep last night for worrying how she was coping, rattling around in this big house on her own, with no one to help her through the disappointment she had recently suffered or check whether she was feeding herself properly, but she didn’t know how Cait would respond to this so she lied. ‘I realised when I got home last night that I had left my umbrella here. I’ll more than likely have need of it before your parents return so I came to fetch it. When I came in, there was no sign that you had been up and about getting ready for work or had any breakfast, just last night’s dishes still on the table, so I was worried about you.’

The mention of the dirty dishes brought home to Cait that now she no longer had Agnes to see to all the mundane household tasks, it was up to her to tackle them in the future. The thought of how to go about cooking and laundering and other household chores when she had not a clue how to do them troubled her. She wished she could ask Agnes to show her the basics but daren’t risk her mother finding out she had been familiar with the hired help. ‘I’ll tidy the kitchen later,’ she told Agnes.

‘I’ll see to it while I’m here, Miss Thomas, and I might as well see to cooking you your meals and anything else that needs doing. I’ve nothing else to do with my time at the moment so it’ll be a favour to me to let me be here, instead of twiddling me thumbs at home.’ This was another lie Agnes was telling as her daughter in Nottingham had pleaded with her to come and stay for a week or so and spend time with her grandchildren – that was after she had voiced her feelings over her mother’s employer laying her off unpaid and without warning. But as much as Agnes loved her daughter and grandchildren there was a great need in her to make sure that this vulnerable young woman was coping on her own before she felt she could go off and enjoy her short period of freedom. Looking at Cait again in concern she said, ‘As I said when I came in, you don’t look good at all. Shall I telephone for the doctor to come and have a look at you?’

‘I doubt he has a magic cure for what I’m suffering from, so don’t waste his time,’ Cait snapped back, just wanting Agnes to leave her alone so she could snuggle back under the covers and be left with her misery.

The older woman did not look convinced but said regardless, ‘If you say so, Miss Thomas. There was another reason I came up to see you. That woman has been on the telephone again. The one who called several times yesterday. She said their situation is getting critical now.’

Cait heaved a frustrated sigh and said irritably, ‘And just what is their situation?’

‘Oh, Miss Thomas, I didn’t feel it my place to ask. I did get her name and number this time, though. She’s a Miss Trucker and she’s calling from Rose’s Quality Shoes and Leather Goods. They’re on Bowman’s Lane, off Frog Island. It’ll be one of those factories backing on to the canal. Miss Trucker ended the call under the impression she would hear shortly when Mrs Thomas’s representative will be paying a visit.’

Rose’s Shoes? The name sounded familiar to Cait. She had seen it somewhere recently. Then she remembered. Printed inside her father’s shoes when she had been rummaging around his wardrobe, looking for family documents. So this critical problem was nothing more than a mix-up over an order for shoes for him? From the number of them in his wardrobe he was obviously a good customer of theirs whom they didn’t want to lose. Though why he needed so many pairs when he rarely left the house was beyond her. A thought struck her then. If she resolved this issue on her mother’s behalf, maybe, just maybe, it might help to rebuild the bond they had shared when she was born. It was worth a try. Besides, the Trucker woman obviously wasn’t going to give up badgering them until someone representing her mother had paid a visit.

First, though, Cait had to build the momentum to get herself out of bed, which was the last thing she felt like doing at the moment.

She instructed Agnes, ‘If the woman telephones again, tell her I’ll call in to see her later. Oh, and while you’re at it, telephone my boss at work and tell her . . . anything you can think of that will be accepted as an excuse for my absence today.’

With that she turned over in bed and pulled the covers over her head, signalling to Agnes that this conversation was at an end.