Faded Dreams by Eileen Haworth Read Free Book Online Page A

to see this lot Florrie…he’d have a bloody fit.’
       Florrie whispered that Fred had enough on his hands fighting a war without bothering his head about a five feet crater.
       A woman directly behind him dug her shopping basket into Joe’s arm, remarking scornfully that it looked to her like some folk revelled in all this, that it was a pity some folk had nothing better to do than gawp, and that it was a pity some folk didn’t spare a thought for them poor devils that had been killed and injured last night. Suitably chastened, Joe shifted uncomfortably and continued his inspection of the site in a more sombre mood.
    *
       A couple of days before Christmas Joe brought home the best tree that money could buy. The only difference was, he hadn’t bought it.
       'God helps him who helps himself', he’d always told Florrie… and who was she to argue with God!
       He had ample opportunity between the warehouse and the shops of East Lancashire to 'help himself' to a side of bacon or a pat or two of best butter and yet he saw himself as an “honourable” thief. He would never steal from friends - or enemies for that matter - but when it came to his family he saw it as his right, nay his duty, to make sure none of them went hungry. And didn’t they deserve the finest of all trees at Christmas to lighten these dark, dreary days?
       And so, driving his empty van back from Ribchester with a few choice grocery items hidden under an old sack, he made a detour that brought him alongside a dense forest. The country road was empty apart from the occasional lorry or van with  no one to see his axe-wielding menacing figure jump down from the cab.  With a furtive glance from left to right he disappeared into the black, silent woodland and reappeared dragging a graceful sweet-scented fir, so tall he struggled to load it into the back of his van.
       Rubbing his frozen fingers together and grimacing with the pain of restored circulation, he rolled the door down shut, his heart racing at the thought of his daughters faces when they saw the tree.
       This Christmas was particularly exciting since Joe and Florrie had befriended a group of soldiers from the Bomb Disposal Squad billeted nearby.  Joe hoped a bit of their glory and glamour might rub off on him and had already made a big impression - or so he thought - on a serious-minded young fellow called Frank Neild.
       Frank was lucky to be alive, having been evacuated from Dunkirk with The British Expeditionary Force some months earlier. This was his second Christmas away from home and once more he was trying not to think of his wife, Janie, out painting the town red like she always did. It didn't seem to matter to her whether he was there or not. Luckily, the welcome  from the Pomfrets this year was helping to ease his loneliness.
       Joe Pomfret, with his never-ending stream of jokes and his comical and somewhat bizarre behaviour, was like nobody Frank had ever met before.
       On the other hand  he couldn’t help feeling sorry for Florrie who had more than her hands full trying to control that husband of hers.
       Early on Christmas Eve the finishing touches were put to the tree, its branches draped with  home-made paper-chains made by Betty and Ellen, and the celluloid fairy doll having had her annual wash,  proudly atop in her new white tissue frock.
       Joe rummaged in the back of the kitchen cupboard for the metal candleholders, clipped them to the tips of the branches, and lit the candles.  In a split second the tree was ablaze. Joe instinctively threw his jacket on to the flames to douse them, dragging at the beautiful festoons and frantically crushing them underfoot. It could have been worse had the tree not been rain-soaked to begin with.
       Disappointment clouded the children’s faces but only for as long as it took their father to bring back their smiles with a joke.
       ‘It’s all right, don't worry, nobody’ll guess we’ve