Christmas at Tuppenny Corner Read online

  Contents

  About the Book

  About the Author

  Also by Katie Flynn

  Title Page

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Wishing you a Merry Christmas

  A letter to readers from Kate Flynn

  A message from my daughter, Holly Flynn

  The Flynn’s Christmas Cake Recipe

  Our Favourite Christmas Family Traditions

  Katie Flynn Christmas Collection

  Read on for an extract of Katie Flynn’s bestselling Christmas novel…

  A Christmas Candle Extract

  A Mother’s Love

  Katie Flynn Penny Street

  Copyright

  About the Book

  Liverpool, 1939

  As winter descends on Tuppenny Corner and rumours of war float across the canals, fifteen-year-old Rosie O’Leary must come to terms with her own dramatic upheaval. Forced to say goodbye to all she holds dear and embark on a new life aboard The Kingfisher, her world is suddenly full of uncertainty.

  But new beginnings open up new possibilities… When fellow bargee – the handsome Tim Bradley – offers to show Rosie the sights of Liverpool, she jumps at the chance and it’s not long before their friendship grows into something more.

  But when Tim is called up to join the RAF, Rosie’s dream of a future together must be put on hold. If Rosie can find the strength to embrace her new life on the canals, there might still be the chance of a miracle this Christmas…

  About the Author

  Katie Flynn has lived for many years in the north-west. A compulsive writer, she started with short stories and articles and many of her early stories were broadcast on Radio Merseyside. She decided to write her Liverpool series after hearing the reminiscences of family members about life in the city in the early years of the twentieth century. She also writes as Judith Saxton. For the past few years, she has had to cope with ME but has continued to write with the help of her daughter, Holly Flynn.

  Also available by Katie Flynn

  A Liverpool Lass

  The Girl from Penny Lane

  Liverpool Taffy

  The Mersey Girls

  Strawberry Fields

  Rainbow’s End

  Rose of Tralee

  No Silver Spoon

  Polly’s Angel

  The Girl from Seaforth Sands

  The Liverpool Rose

  Poor Little Rich Girl

  The Bad Penny

  Down Daisy Street

  A Kiss and a Promise

  Two Penn’orth of Sky

  A Long and Lonely Road

  The Cuckoo Child

  Darkest Before Dawn

  Orphans of the Storm

  Little Girl Lost

  Beyond the Blue Hills

  Forgotten Dreams

  Sunshine and Shadows

  Such Sweet Sorrow

  A Mother’s Hope

  In Time for Christmas

  Heading Home

  A Mistletoe Kiss

  The Lost Days of Summer

  A Sixpenny Christmas

  Christmas Wishes

  The Runaway

  The Forget-Me-Not Summer

  A Christmas to Remember

  Time to Say Goodbye

  A Family Christmas

  A Summer Promise

  When Christmas Bells Ring

  An Orphan’s Christmas

  A Christmas Candle

  Available by Katie Flynn writing as Judith Saxton

  You Are My Sunshine

  First Love, Last Love

  Someone Special

  Still Waters

  We’ll Meet Again

  A Family Affair

  Jenny Alone

  Chasing Rainbows

  All My Fortunes

  Sophie

  Harbour Hill

  The Arcade

  The Pride

  The Glory

  The Splendour

  Full Circle

  Prologue

  Rosie O’Leary sat on the side of the towpath, her bare feet dangling just above the surface of the canal whilst her horse Daisy grazed peacefully beside her. Watching the sun sparkling on the water, Rosie knew that this should be one of the happiest days of her life, but try though she might she could not get into the spirit of the occasion. In an hour her mother – Maggie – would be marrying her fiancé Ken Donahue, and Rosie’s life would start afresh, or at least Rosie hoped that that was the way things would pan out. But in her heart she knew that the likelihood was that nothing would change for the better. Things would continue the way they were, or, if she were really unlucky, get even worse.

  Rosie’s father, Jack O’Leary, had died when she had been little more than a toddler, leaving Maggie to take over his role as the Wild Swan’s Number One – the bargee equivalent to a ship’s captain – as well as single-handedly raising their daughter on the Leeds and Liverpool Canal. Ever since that fateful day, Maggie had forbidden anyone to discuss the circumstances surrounding her husband’s death, only ever referring to it as ‘that day’ or ‘what happened’. Rosie herself had not known the events of her father’s untimely demise until her mother accidentally blurted it out one day as they queued to go through one of the many locks on the canal.

  Neville Partington, the old lock keeper, had come out of his cottage apologising profusely to the assembled bargees for his tardiness. ‘Sorry, folks, but when nature calls …’ he said as he inserted the key into the slot. He had started the arduous task of winding the great gates open when he stopped in mid-turn, his face contorted as he yelped in pain.

  ‘Bloody hell – me back. Someone help me – it’s gone again. I can’t move!’

  Rosie, who had been combing Daisy’s mane as they stood waiting, heard the old man’s cries and without hesitation left Daisy and ran along the side of the lock, calling out reassuringly as she approached, ‘Don’t worry Mr Partington, I’ll give you a hand—’ She was interrupted by a furious shriek.

  ‘Rosie O’Leary! You stop where you are this minute, do you hear? How dare you run off like that? You know how dangerous locks are, and yet there’s you runnin’ around like a headless chicken, with no thought for anyone other than yourself.’

  Rosie stopped short of Neville, her face crimson with embarrassment, as the other bargees craned their necks in an effort to see the cause of all the commotion. Doubled up in agony and unable to move, Neville winced in pain as he dismissed Rosie. ‘Go back to your mam, queen. I’ll be all right – one of the other …’ He broke off as someone came up behind Rosie. ‘Oh, Tim, thank goodness. Give us a hand, there’s a good lad.’

  Tim Bradley, who worked aboard the Sally Anne with his parents, cast Rosie a sympathetic glance. ‘You’d best go, before your mam blows her lid.’

  Rosie, feeling the hot tears of humiliation trickle down her blazing cheeks, lowered her head to hide her embarrassment as she turned on her heel and ran back down the path towards her mother, who stood tapping her toe impatiently, a scowl etched on her face. Apologising, Rosie stepped on board the Wild Swan, but not before Maggie’s hand had struck the back of her head. ‘How many times do I have to remind you that canals are dangerous places; too dangerous for a young chit of a girl like you? I tell you now, Rosie O’Leary, if I could manage without you …’

  Rosie, eager to protest her
innocence, turned. ‘I was only trying to help,’ she mumbled.

  Folding her arms, Maggie shook her head. ‘And a great help you’d be to me if you got crushed to death by a lock gate like your father. He ran same as you when …’ Her voice trailed off.

  Without thinking, and louder than she intended Rosie muttered under her breath, ‘Probably to get away from you.’

  Even though the comment had not been intended for Maggie’s ears she heard it all the same, and this time the slap connected with Rosie’s hot cheek. As her hand flew to her face, Rosie opened her mouth to apologise, to take back the words that had been spoken without thought, but it was too late. Fists clenched to her sides, shoulders shaking in anger, Maggie bawled, ‘How dare you? You ungrateful little bitch! Get out of my sight, and don’t come back until I tell you.’

  Rosie was aware of several onlookers as she ran into the main cabin and flung herself on to her bed, where she buried her face in her pillow in an attempt to drown out her sobs. Why did her mother persist in treating her like some kind of idiotic, clumsy, useless child, who knew little and was capable of even less? She was fifteen years old, and in all the time she had worked the canals she had never once so much as tripped over a pebble, let alone fallen into the water. Clenching her fists, she thumped her mattress at the unjustness of it all. She knew herself to be above average in reading and sums, especially compared to the other youngsters who lived on the canals. She supposed it was fortunate that she was naturally bright; she just wished her mother would recognise that fact instead of treating her like a simpleton who could not be trusted to leave the barge for fear that she would get into trouble through her own naivety.

  Rosie remembered how she had once been foolish enough to ask Maggie if she might be allowed to join Tim Bradley and some of his mates on an expedition into the city of Liverpool. ‘I know you better’n you know yerself,’ Maggie had said, wagging a reproving finger. ‘You’d trip over your own feet you would, and if I were stupid enough to give you any money you’d likely come back with a handful of beans, like that Jack in the Beanstalk.’

  Rosie had heard the giggles from the assembled youngsters and rather than face them she had gone to Daisy and hidden her face in the mare’s thick fluffy winter coat.

  If anyone else’s mother behaved the way Maggie did, Rosie would have put it down to being overprotective, or concern for their child’s welfare; but not when it came to Maggie. Her mother cared only for the running of the Wild Swan and believed her daughter to be incapable of functioning without guidance; and with no one to tell her otherwise Rosie would have believed her mother’s words had it not been for the fact that Maggie trusted her to look after Daisy.

  The large dapple mare stood at nearly sixteen hands high, and was quite capable of causing a lot of damage if not handled properly. But under Rosie’s care Daisy was a gentle giant who obeyed her mistress’s every command, and never fell lame or ill through neglect.

  If I’m that useless, why on earth am I allowed to look after an animal who could quite easily trample me into the ground, throw me from her back, or kick me senseless when I pick out her hooves? If I can’t be trusted to put one foot in front of the other without falling into the canal, how can I be placed in charge of someone as important as Daisy? After all, without her the Wild Swan would be unable to move, Rosie thought bitterly now, feeling tears of frustration starting to trickle down her cheeks.

  Hearing the sound of approaching footsteps, she looked up from the canal surface and saw her mother in an ivory-coloured two-piece suit, her hair curled into waves around her face. It should have been a picture of beauty, but instead Maggie’s brow was furrowed in an angry frown. ‘Rosie O’Leary, have you not put that bloomin’ beast back in her field yet? Stop daydreaming and get away from the side of the canal. Last thing I need is to start off my new life one crew member down – although I dare say Ken’ll make up for more than ten of you. And for goodness’ sakes, stop your snivelling! This is meant to be a happy occasion, and I’ll not have you ruining everyone’s pleasure by blubbing like a spoiled brat.’

  Getting to her feet, Rosie apologised resignedly to her mother and began to lead Daisy up the towpath towards the field where she would be grazing overnight. Running her fingers through the mare’s mane she whispered, ‘You don’t think I’m useless, do you? As far as you’re concerned I’m your friend, the one who keeps you safe and happy. Gawd only knows, if I can look after you I can be trusted to sit on a towpath.’ Plodding along the path, Daisy half closed her eyes under Rosie’s gentle caress. ‘When me mam and Ken announced their intention to wed, I did hope that mebbe Ken could make me mam see that I’m not as stupid as she believes, but now I’m worried she might persuade him to think I’m as thick as she does. I don’t think I could bear it if there were two people on board who treated me like a child.’ Her bottom lip began to tremble as she stroked the silky hair on Daisy’s neck. ‘Thank goodness for you, Daisy O’Leary. You’re the only one round here who sees me for who I am. Without you I don’t think I’d have anyone on my side. I’d like to think that if my father’d still been alive he’d have stuck up for me, only I’ll never know, will I, because I’m not allowed to ask any questions, not even supposed to speak his name …’

  Reaching the gate to the meadow, Rosie pulled it open, led Daisy through and took the halter from round her head. Knowing the routine, Daisy turned to face her and awaited the titbit that was due. Rosie obligingly produced half a carrot and handed it over, as the large mare crunched the treat down she continued, ‘I think it’s because she knows he was a much better person than she is, kinder, more understanding and caring. Not cold and judgemental like her. I bet if he were alive he wouldn’t make me call him Jack. He’d want me to call him Dad, not like Maggie, who insists on Maggie or even Number One – she thinks it ensures the tight running of the barge. I wish he was still alive, I wish she was more like him.’

  Maggie’s voice called out impatiently. ‘Rosie! For goodness’ sakes get a move on, and leave that great lump be!’ She placed her hands on her hips and stamped her foot angrily. ‘I won’t tell you again. Get down here now.’

  Rosie kissed Daisy’s velvety muzzle. ‘At least I’ll always have you. That’s summat they can never take away from me.’ Making her way down to the towpath, trying to imagine the look on her mother’s face if Daisy were ever to fall lame. She’d soon realise how useful we both were, she thought decidedly. I’d like to see her and Ken try to tow a big old barge like the Wild Swan without our help. Smiling at the very thought of it, Rosie joined her mother, and the pair of them made their way to the church.

  Chapter One

  Summer 1939

  Rosie did not know what had interrupted her sleep. Annoyed at the disturbance, she fumbled for her bed-covers, but try as she might it seemed the blankets were beyond her reach. Sitting up, she realised that instead of being in her cosy little bed aboard the Wild Swan she actually appeared to have been lying in what smelt and felt like a pile of hay. Puzzled, Rosie peered into the gloom, trying to make sense of the situation, while the memories of the previous day came flooding back.

  Early that morning, her mother and her new husband had been discussing the possibility of giving up their rented barge, the Wild Swan, in favour of one with an engine.

  ‘It’d make sense all round,’ Ken had explained to Maggie. ‘Everybody’s changing over nowadays. You know as well as I do that a mechanised barge can run twenty-four hours a day if need be, not like a horse that needs to be rested, fed, watered and shod, not to mention if the bugger goes lame. It’d be easier on us, too …’

  Rosie knew that eavesdropping was wrong, but she could not help herself. If they got a mechanised barge then it would mean that Daisy would no longer be needed.

  Fearing that she was going to lose her only friend, she had spoken out, causing her mother and Ken to jump six inches.

  ‘You can’t get rid of Daisy,’ she had said, her voice high with emotion. ‘Like Ken said,
everybody’s changing over to engine power, so who’ll want Daisy, and what will happen to her?’

  Maggie had glowered at her daughter as she took a step in Rosie’s direction. ‘Where the devil did you spring from? You know better than to go sneakin’ up on folk, and how dare you listen to a private conversation! That’s eavesdroppin’, that is …’

  Pulling Maggie back, Ken had tried to defuse the situation. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And besides, the girl’s gorra point. She’s rare fond of that horse, and it’s only natural she should be concerned as to where the beast ends up …’

  Maggie had glanced sideways at Ken; then, holding up her hands, she had addressed her daughter. ‘Sorry. You just startled me is all …’ and in a rare moment of softness she had placed an arm round Rosie’s shoulders. ‘If we do change over – and nowt’s been confirmed yet – we’ll find Daisy a good home, probably on one of the farms next to the canal. Farmers are always after a good reliable horse to pull the plough, and if you’re lucky you should be able to see her two or three times a month. But you must realise, Rosie, that with Ken aboard as well as myself and you, it makes good sense to modernise.’ The explanation would have been satisfactory had Maggie not added: ‘So quit your snivelling and start thinking of others beside yourself.’

  Rosie had thought the accusation of snivelling unfair, yet typical of her mother, who never seemed to be able to make pleasant conversation with her daughter without adding a snide remark at some point. Rosie would have liked to argue Daisy’s case further, but found it difficult because she knew that her mother and Ken were right about one thing: all the bargees, except for some of the old folk, were converting to engine power. It was favoured when it came to delivering shipments as the barges were able to go faster, further and with fewer stops, which of course was more efficient. As a result, the Wild Swan and barges like her were getting less work.

  Later that day they had moored at Tuppenny Corner – so called because it led to Tuppenny Lane, which was the shortcut to the small town of Bishopswood – and after a supper of cheese and pickles Rosie had taken Daisy to the field that they rented from the Panks so she could graze there overnight. On her return, she had bidden Maggie and Ken goodnight before snuggling into her bed in the tiny cabin – more like a storage cupboard than a place to sleep, she thought – to which she had been consigned since her mother’s marriage. She had tried to rid her mind of thoughts of losing Daisy, but this had proved impossible, and in a rare moment of defiance – for Maggie had strictly forbidden her daughter to go ashore after dark – she had pushed her bed sheets to one side and tiptoed out of the small cabin. Stepping quietly on to the towpath, she had walked towards the front of the barge, smiling to herself as she heard the mingled snores coming from the main cabin, indicating that both her mother and Ken were fast asleep.