Christmas Past by Glenice Crossland Read Free Book Online

rhododendron shrub; later, gaining
confidence, it remained close by, so that by now it was almost meeting Mary on the doorstep. Icicles hung like crystal chandeliers on the laburnum tree, dripping in the weak midday sun only to
freeze again in the late afternoon.
    Mary was at peace at Moorland House. To her it was home now, and she knew that whenever or wherever she travelled in the future, this house, this winter, would remain vividly in her memory
– the time when she had emerged from girl to womanhood. She thought of Tom every waking hour but now she could bear the separation, knowing she belonged to him and he to her. She dismissed
from her mind the thought of what would happen once his training finished, thinking only of his next leave, praying the weather would mellow and make the village accessible before he was due to
arrive.
    Gladys had guessed immediately that the couple had made love. She had noticed the footprints leading to the stable whilst taking the little boys to see Pepper on Boxing Day morning, and even
without that evidence she would have guessed anyway by the look on Mary’s face. Gladys remembered only too well the change she herself had experienced after her first sexual encounter with
Rowland, the difference being that she and Rowland had waited until their wedding night. Still, things were different in wartime; no one knew what would happen from one day to the next. Gladys,
more knowledgeable than Mary about the progress of the war, decided to say nothing. Soldiers were being shipped out every day to various destinations, and only God knew what horrors were awaiting
them on their arrival. It was better for Mary to remain in ignorance of what Tom might have to face.
    Tom’s next leave was spent quietly. The snow had been thawed temporarily to a squelchy mess by incessant rain, and this time, without the Christmas celebrations to
distract them, the only thing on their minds was the uncertainty of when they would next be together. Everyone was unnaturally cheerful and only Tom’s mother showed her true feelings,
starting to cry when little Douglas asked Tom, ‘Have yer killed anybody yet, Tom?’
    ‘Not yet.’ Tom laughed. ‘But just you wait. As soon as I see one of our enemies he’ll have a bullet up his arse and no mistake.’ A game of soldiers then began, with
Tom chasing his little brothers round the table, drawing his mother’s attention away from her sadness at his approaching departure. Had it not been for the youngsters, Mary had the feeling
that everyone would have just hung around waiting for Tom’s leave to end.
    They didn’t make love again. It was as though something special had occurred, something too precious to spoil. Instead they held each other, touching, kissing, gaining satisfaction just
from being together.
    When the time came for Tom to return to his unit, Rowland took them into Sheffield in the car, driving erratically once he got amongst the other traffic, although he doubted if they noticed. He
left them with a couple of hours to spare, promising to pick Mary up when it was time for Tom’s train. Then he drove to the infirmary, concerned about a patient who had been injured by a roof
which had collapsed under the weight of the snow.
    The couple strolled round the shops, laughingly choosing furniture, optimistic that it wouldn’t be long before they would be buying. Mary promised to fill her bottom drawer ready for
Tom’s return.
    ‘And don’t forget the pink satin,’ Tom warned. Then he led her to Brown’s the jewellers, where instead of window shopping he took her inside. ‘I didn’t get
chance to buy you a Christmas present,’ he said.
    ‘We’d like to see an engagement ring,’ he told the assistant who approached them.
    Mary almost fainted, wondering what obligations went with becoming engaged. She’d never known anyone in real life who had done so, and she had no idea.
    ‘I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘I ought to ask my ma