Darkest Before Dawn Episode 07
Alf was delighted with the size of the turkey he’d reared on his allotment for Christmas, but his delight turned to dismay when, once plucked, stuffed and ready on Christmas Eve, he realised it wouldn’t go into the tin, let alone the oven.
He stepped back from it and rubbed his chin, looking so disappointed that Maud felt a pang of sympathy for him.
“The only way you’re going to cook that is if you joint it first,” she pointed out.
“I’m thinking,” he replied.
“We can cook it in two batches,” she added.
“Shush!”
“Did you tell me to shush, Alf Pollard?” Maud demanded, giving him a flick with the tea towel she was holding.
“You’ll be spending Christmas on the boat if you’re not careful,” she teased.
Alf, a ship’s cook, looked at her and his face lit up.
“That’s it, Maud!” he cried triumphantly. “You clever thing. That’s what I’ll do!”
“Spend Christmas on the boat?” Maud frowned.
He put his hands on her shoulders and kissed her forehead.
“Of course not. I’ll take the bird on board,” he said.
“We’re laid up till after Christmas and no-one will be using the galley. It’ll easily go into the oven.”
“Can I come?” Sidney piped up.
“I’ll wake you at five,” Alf said, and Maud laughed at the horror on Sidney’s face.
She turned to look at Isobel and Edward, knowing they’d be laughing, too, and it hit her out of nowhere, knocking her breath away.
Edward wasn’t here. This would be their first Christmas without him.
John had gone, too. With the town now garrisoned, life was very different.
“Mum?” Isobel began as Maud sank on to a chair. “Are you all right?”
She’d done so well until now, keeping her fears to herself and putting on a brave face, but sometimes it all got too much.
“Just a bit breathless,” she lied. “I’ve been on my feet baking all day.”
“Enough mince-pies to feed an army,” Alf piped up, looking at the rack on the table.
“It’s a shame Edward isn’t here to polish off a few of them.”
Maud could see by his face that thinking of Edward hurt him, too.
“They’ll get eaten,” she said briskly. “You can all try one if you like.”
She didn’t tell anyone that she’d harboured a secret wish that Edward might make it home for Christmas.
Alf brought the turkey home the next day just as Maud was dishing up roast potatoes and vegetables.
He placed it on the table and uncovered it with a flourish.
The skin was crisp and golden, and the smell of the sausage-meat stuffing was mouth-watering.
Sidney had gone with him to collect it, returning carrying a jug of gravy, which he had transported without spilling a drop.
“My gravy bearer,” Alf called him. “Good job.”
“You’ve done us proud,” Rose told her brother. “But it’s missing a leg.”
“I left it for the watch,” Alf explained. “Walcott could smell it cooking and all he had was a sandwich. You should have seen his face.”
“Did you want to take him some veg to go with it?” Maud asked.
“He had a splash of gravy and a bit of stuffing,” Alf replied. “And very happy he was with it, too.”
“That was kind of you,
Mr Pollard,” Tilly said, and Alf looked down at her, a stern look on his face.
Tilly gave him a sheepish smile.
“Sorry, Dad,” she added.
“Let’s dish up before it goes cold,” Maud declared, before she could dwell too much on who wasn’t at the table.
She was determined they’d enjoy the day. Who knew where they’d be by next Christmas or what might have happened?