A Christmas Candle Read online

  Eve had been walking slowly anyway, but now she slowed even more. On her right was the old orchard, looking wonderfully festive with snow on every branch. She had never seen the orchard when the blossom was out, but now, with the snow taking the place of the apple flowers, she could imagine it in all its beauty, and determined to ask Auntie Bess when she could expect to see the first frail pink and white of the petals.

  She passed the spot where she had seen that solitary wild strawberry growing on the mossy bank, and remembered that Uncle Reg had told her that in summer the bank would be scarlet with berries and she would be able to fill a basket for Auntie Bess, who, like Nanny Burton, vowed and declared that the flavour of a wild strawberry would never be matched by the cultivated kind.

  But now it was winter and even the moss on the tall banks was covered with snow, so when she heard a soft thud, though it made her jump, she immediately concluded that it was the snow sliding off one of the big fruit trees which lined the lane and would have continued dreamily sauntering onwards had a hand not gripped her shoulder and an accusing voice spoken practically in her ear, making her jump quite six inches and squeak with fright.

  ‘You’ve been talking to Robbo about me; asking questions and that. Well, now you can ask me to my face. Go on, what’s your interest in Johnny Durrell?’

  It was none other than the boy from New Cross station. Recovering a little from the initial shock, Eve spoke slowly. ‘It’s because when I first came here yours was the only face I recognised, but whenever I tried to speak to you you always seemed to disappear,’ she said. ‘I told Robbo you were like a Cheshire cat; I’d catch sight of you amongst the other kids in the school playground or making for home at the end of the day, but before I could reach you all there was left was a Cheshire cat grin because the rest of you had buzzed off. I only wanted to ask you why you didn’t like me, but you never gave me the opportunity. As I said, you just pulled off your disappearing trick so naturally that I thought you were avoiding me, and I wanted to know why.’

  All the time she was talking she was staring at Johnny. He was tall and sturdily built, with straight blond hair which fell over his forehead and was constantly flicked back, eyes of so dark a blue that one had to stare in order to make certain that they were not black, and a determined chin. He had eyebrows so fair that they were almost white, and as Eve came to the end of her explanation they drew together in a puzzled frown.

  ‘Let me get this right,’ he said. ‘You claim to have recognised me, but I don’t see how you can have, because I don’t know you. Were you at St Cuthbert’s primary? You could have been, I suppose, though I can’t remember seeing you there. So where are we supposed to have met one another? Or were you just telling whoppers to make yourself more interesting?’

  Eve stiffened indignantly. ‘I’ve got no need to tell horrid lies to do that,’ she said crossly. ‘My old English teacher in London used to say one of the girls put on airs to be interesting; I suppose that’s what you meant, isn’t it? Come to that, someone who keeps deliberately disappearing … oh, never mind. No I did not go to St Cuthbert’s, wherever that might be, and if you can’t remember seeing me before I came to Drake’s Farm you can’t. Who cares?’

  For a moment the boy looked surprised, then he shrugged. ‘If you don’t want to tell me, that’s fine by me,’ he said. ‘You’re only a little kid, after all. If you’re going into the village we might as well walk together.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘And to make the walk more interesting you can give me a clue – a clue about where we met, I mean.’

  Eve hesitated, but only for a second. She had been looking forward to revisiting the magical spots, and pretending that Mabel was with her, but heaven knew she had waited long enough to find out why Johnny had first been rude to her and had since kept out of her way. She might not get such an opportunity again, so she glanced sideways at him and then nodded.

  ‘Right,’ she said, ‘only you have to answer my question first. Why did you disappear whenever I tried to have a chat? Is that fair?’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose so,’ Johnny said thoughtfully. ‘In fact I might have spoken to you sooner, when Robbo said you’d been asking about me, but I never saw you alone. Either you were with a group, or you had that kid hanging on to your sleeve, the little one with yellow hair. I don’t like kids; they’re a perishin’ nuisance, and I didn’t want him taggin’ on to me the way he tags on to you. Robbo told me he were your brother, but as I said I’m not fond of kids.’

  ‘I’m not too keen on them myself,’ Eve said ruefully, ‘but I don’t have much choice; Mummy made me promise to look after Chrissie – that’s his name, Chrissie – and he kicks up such a fuss if I leave the farm without him that it’s easier to take him than not. But Auntie Bess – that’s Mrs Faversham – takes him off my hands when she can, and this morning she promised to let him be chief taster whilst she did the baking, so he let me come out without any bother. Daddy’s in the Navy and Mummy’s in Plymouth with him, so Auntie Bess is in charge.’

  She chanced a glance up into Johnny’s face and saw that he was looking slightly contemptuous. She did not have to ask him why. ‘You think it’s babyish to call my parents Mummy and Daddy,’ she said shrewdly. ‘I did try using “Mother” when she got something she called a forty-eight at Christmas and came rushing up to Drake’s Farm. She brought our Christmas presents, nice thick jumpers and stuff like that for us both and a pink teddy with blue eyes for Chrissie to cuddle when he goes to bed. Chrissie and I agreed that we would call her Mum or Mother, which is what most of the evacuees call their parents, but she just got cross, so we’ve reverted to Mummy and Daddy – for a bit, anyway.’ She giggled. ‘It was made worse by Chrissie throwing the teddy bear across the living room and saying he was a big man now with Arthur Askey – he meant arthritis – and didn’t want a baby’s teddy bear, especially not a pink one.’

  She did not add, as she might have done, that Mummy had scolded her for encouraging Chrissie to forget his darling baby ways, and whilst she was considering whether to ask if Johnny had little brothers and sisters he suddenly stopped dead and pulled her round to face him.

  ‘Mummy!’ he crowed triumphantly. ‘That’s the clue. Mummy! New Cross station! Gosh, you’ve changed. You were such a prim little thing, with your hair in plaits and a panama hat plonked dead straight on top of your head.’ He chuckled. ‘Of course, I never expected to see you again or I might have been a bit more polite. What did I say to you that you’ve remembered all these months?’

  Eve smiled. ‘Your words are burned on my brain,’ she said teasingly. ‘Can you truly not remember? Honest Injun?’

  Johnny shook his head and gave her a wicked grin and Eve could not help thinking how nice he looked when he smiled. ‘I suppose I’m not surprised you’ve forgotten – or at least are pretending to have forgotten,’ she said chidingly. ‘It was very rude. We’re gettin’ on a better train than this one. This one’s for kids. Us older ones is goin’ to the country, so yah boo and sucks to you!’

  Johnny laughed. ‘Well, that’s put me in my place,’ he said. ‘If I think it’s childish to call your ma Mummy, then I admit it’s just as childish to shout insults through a train window, so shall we call it quits?’ He held out a square and rather dirty hand. ‘Shake on it, buddy,’ he said in his best American cowboy accent. ‘Tell you what, how about you and me being mates? You’re not much younger than me, and if you can get rid of that little brother of yours you me and Robbo can have a good time, one way and another. I’ve seen you with another girl – dunno her name, but she looks a good sport. What say we make up a foursome? We can do all sorts when summer arrives. What do you think?’

  Eve had been about to accept the suggestion with real pleasure, but now she hesitated. Was Johnny thinking of Mabel? Surely he could not have taken a liking to the detestable Connie Hale? How could she find out which of the two girls he meant? After a moment, she cleared her throat.

  ‘Do you mean Mabel? She’s got very pale blon
d hair and blue eyes and she’s a bit older than me; well, quite a bit older actually. But she’s left Drake’s Farm so that she can be with her cousin Joyce. We see each other at school sometimes but it’s not the same.’

  Johnny scowled at his booted feet, then raised his eyes to Eve’s and heaved a sigh. ‘Why would I suggest a foursome with a girl who doesn’t live here any more?’ he asked impatiently. ‘I’ve seen you with a girl who’s got sort of dark hair, but I couldn’t tell you the colour of her eyes or anything like that. You and she usually come out of the farm together.’

  ‘You must mean Connie Hale,’ Eve said, after giving the matter some thought. The last thing she wanted was a foursome which included the horrible Connie, and with her luck she would find herself bracketed with Robbo whilst Johnny and Connie became close friends. She opened her mouth to tell Johnny that she and Connie were anything but mates, then changed her mind. See how it goes, a small inner voice advised her. You like Johnny already, despite how badly he behaved at New Cross station. See how it goes, Eve Armstrong. ‘I don’t know her very well yet, but that sounds fun,’ she said rather doubtfully. ‘But what about Chrissie? I can’t guarantee that I shan’t be landed with him, you know.’

  Johnny laughed, put his arm around her shoulders and propelled her forward. ‘I’m sure we’ll manage something somehow,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Are you in a hurry? If not, there’s something in the wood I’d like to show you, so long as you promise not to go telling every Tom, Dick and Harry.’

  ‘Ooh, secrets!’ Eve said happily. ‘I shan’t say a word to anyone, but I can’t guarantee Connie won’t talk; she’s a bit of a blabbermouth, or that’s what Lily – one of the land girls on the farm – called her.’

  ‘But she isn’t here,’ Johnny pointed out. He looked shrewdly down into Eve’s face. ‘You don’t like her, do you? But from what you’ve said she hasn’t been with you very long, so perhaps your judgement is a bit hasty. Incidentally, do you know how far this wood extends?’

  By now they were under the branches of the great beech trees and beneath their feet the snow had given way to a mere sprinkling of frost.

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ Eve said truthfully. ‘Although Chrissie and I have been at Drake’s Farm for ages I haven’t had much opportunity to explore, but I do remember old Mr Smith telling a story once about a time when the snow was so deep that it came above his boots. It was about some child getting lost in the wood and when he was discovered old Mr Smith said he was stiff as a board and dead as a dodo. He said if it hadn’t been for the farm dogs starting to dig in one of the snowdrifts they mightn’t have found the body until spring.’ She gave a shudder. ‘So I suppose the wood must be a lot bigger than the little bit we see on our way to and from school.’

  Johnny nodded. ‘It’s immense,’ he told her, ‘but fortunately the snow isn’t too deep, and even if it was …’ he pulled her to a halt and pointed to the trees by which they were surrounded, ‘it would have to come awfully high to cover the markers. Can you see them?’

  Eve looked around her. Mostly, the trees were fully grown and mature, but every now and again a brave sapling raised its head; Eve felt she could almost see the little trees straining towards the blue sky above. But Johnny was looking at her expectantly and she broke into hasty speech.

  ‘Do you mean the little saplings on either side of us? I remember one of the farmhands saying that every five years or so someone comes along and thins out the big trees to give the little ones a chance, only I don’t see how you can tell …’

  Johnny laughed. ‘No, it’s much simpler than that.’ He went over to a mighty beech and pointed to where an axe had chipped a V-shaped scar in the grey bark just above shoulder height. ‘See that? The trees with those marks trace the main path through the wood.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ Eve said admiringly. ‘But if it was me by myself I might simply go deeper and deeper into the wood just by following the axe marks.’

  Johnny grinned. ‘You aren’t as daft as you look,’ he said. ‘If you go closer you’ll see there’s a sort of red blob near the axe mark. The red blob shows the way to the lane and a green blob to the other side of the wood; get it?’

  ‘Yes I do, and it’s brilliant,’ Eve said again. ‘Only you haven’t said what there is at the other side of the wood. Does it go to the village? Don’t say it goes all the way to the town!’

  Johnny shook his head. ‘Someone told me it leads to the forestry part,’ he said. ‘That’s where the authorities plant trees which will be harvested at a certain time of year, just as though they were apples or sprouts or something. They’re very hardy and can grow higher than the broadleaf trees; broadleaf means beeches, elms and oaks and such like – anything which sheds its leaves in the autumn and grows new ones in the spring. The forestry trees don’t have leaves, they have needles.’

  ‘I know; like Christmas trees. I think they’re called conifers,’ Eve said, remembering something Daddy had once told her.

  Johnny nodded. ‘When I’m old enough to get a job I want to work with the forestry people so I’m learning all I can about trees. Or I might go for farming – something outdoors, at any rate.’

  Eve was about to suggest that cutting down trees might not be much fun if you loved them, but at that moment Johnny pulled her off the path and into the wilderness of young trees and frosted grass. Naturally enough, having heard Mr Smith’s awful story and seeing no marked trees on either side, Eve resisted.

  ‘The trunks of these trees don’t have blobs on,’ she said. ‘Oh, Johnny, I don’t want us to be like the babes in the wood!’ She glanced fearfully around her, then gave a nervous laugh. ‘What if I found myself knocking at a gingerbread door and being pulled into a marshmallow cottage by some old witch? If there are marks on these trees I can’t see them, and I don’t believe you can either.’

  Johnny grinned. ‘You’re right, but don’t get in a state,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I know where I’m going, and fortunately I’ve got a good sense of direction. I don’t want to leave a trail because some of the country people, the farmers in particular, would— Aha! We’ve arrived. This is what I wanted to show you.’

  He pointed, but all Eve could see was a largish area of beaten snow and what looked like a very large rabbit hole. She looked questioningly up at her companion.

  ‘What a whopping rabbit burrow. But I’ve been noticing them – smaller ones – all over the place, so what’s different about this one? Apart from the size, I mean?’

  Johnny gave a small snort of triumph. ‘It’s clear you don’t know much about the country yet,’ he said mockingly. ‘This, my dear Eve, is most certainly not a rabbit burrow. In fact it isn’t a burrow at all, but a sett. And do you know who lives there?’ He sank his voice to a whisper. ‘It’s a badger’s house, just like the one in that book by Kenneth Grahame. I can’t remember what it’s called, but …’

  ‘Do you mean The Wind In The Willows?’ Eve said. Secretly, she was more than a little disappointed. After the long walk she had expected to be shown something really exciting: a tree house or a log cabin which Johnny and Robbo had built for themselves. But she knew better than to show Johnny a disappointed face. Instead, she smiled brightly at him and lowered her own voice. ‘I say, Johnny, how clever of you to find Mr Badger’s very own front door! If we were small enough and could walk into the hole I’m sure we’d find a little green-painted door and a gilt knocker. Did you find it yourself, or did one of the forestry men show you? I wish—’

  But at this point Johnny’s hand clamped over her mouth and muffled the words which were about to emerge from between her lips, and he pointed to something Eve had not noticed before: a little path down which was coming a figure she recognised only from books and stories. The badger was returning from his night’s wanderings.

  The two youngsters watched in awe as he padded along his narrow path, paused to look around him carefully and then disappeared into his sett. For a moment neither spoke. Eve realised she had been hold
ing her breath and released it in a long low sigh.

  ‘I never thought I’d see a badgers’ sett, let alone a real live badger,’ she said. ‘How many people know about this, Johnny? Does the badger have a wife down in that hole? And little ones?’

  Johnny shrugged and drew her back the way they had come. ‘Hush,’ he whispered. ‘Wait till we’re out of earshot. If the badger knew we’d watched him he might abandon the sett and go and live somewhere else.’

  Eve nodded and neither said another word until they were well clear. Only then did Johnny answer her question. ‘So far as I know I’m the only person who’s ever spotted so much as a whisker of the badger, let alone his sett,’ he said. ‘And now there’s you, of course.’ He grinned down at her, his eyes still alight with the wonder of what they had seen. ‘I was telling you; some of the local farmers have queer ideas and blame the badgers for passing on tuberculosis to their cattle. It’s all rubbish, of course, but I’ve actually heard people say they’ve watched badgers drinking milk from a cow’s udder. So you see I don’t mean to tell anyone else about what we’ve seen today. I only found it yesterday and I was longing to tell someone, but I wouldn’t dream of putting the badgers’ lives at risk.’ He turned to look down at her, his face still flushed from excitement. ‘We mustn’t make a path straight from the lane to the sett because someone else might follow it. One of the farmhands at Spindlebush once told me quite proudly that he’d killed a badger with a spade and dug out the sett in order to kill its mate. With folk like that around … well, I daren’t even tell Robbo, but you’re a girl, and girls don’t even like squashing spiders or batting wasps away from cake, so I decided I could let you into the secret. Only you must promise to keep it to yourself.’